


The Spoils of War

by HillaryLeonor



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 20th c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M, Inspired by 1984 - George Orwell, Nuclear Warfare, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 100,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillaryLeonor/pseuds/HillaryLeonor
Summary: Bill and Hillary are living in Rodinia, the so-called "North Korea of the West". When she gets pregnant, they decided to make a gamble and let Hillary escape this hellhole they called home so that they can provide their child with a better life. But, like everything in Rodinia, it came with a heavy price.Thirty years later, Hillary, the new US Secretary of State, is on a mission to save the world from the threat of a nuclear war....from the hands of her husband.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back! So as you may have read in my fic, Just a Coincidence, I ran a poll of what you guys wanted for my next AU fic and the answer was overwhelmingly Orwellian Billary. Well, it's not really 100% Orwellian per se but it is one of the heavy topics in the fic. This fic (or at least, what I'm planning) is waaaaaay darker than the fics I've written. This focuses heavily on international politics as well so don't expect heavy fluff. (But I promise there will be smut lol).

**_Clinton Residence, City of Aldenkirk, Rodinia, July 1979_ **

“Honey, I see two lines. Do you see two lines too?”

Both Bill and Hillary blinked as they saw the pregnancy test strip reveal two lines. They weren’t sure whether it was the truth, or their eyes were playing tricks on them. They wanted to seek out each other’s confirmation, just to be sure.

“Darlin’, I see two lines,” Bill confirmed what she thought she saw.

And just like that, the apprehension and uncertainty melted away simultaneously. Bill and Hillary looked at each other with faces more radiant than they have ever been. 

“It’s true, then,” Hillary gasped in awe, “We’re pregnant.”

It took ten seconds for Bill to digest everything. His gaze and mind were suddenly blank.

“Honey, are you okay?” said a worried Hillary.

“I-I-I…yes. I’m more than okay. Oh God, do you realize what this means, Hilly?” Bill was starting to hyperventilate.

“That we’re going to be parents?” Hillary tried not to make fun of her husband, but she couldn’t help it. He was being too funny. He chose to be dumb at the worst possible time.  

“YES! YOU GET IT! WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS!” Bill scooped her up and swung her around, eliciting soft giggles from her laughing mouth. When he put her down, he pulled her closer and kissed her until she was breathless.

“Honey, honey, stop. I need to breathe!” Hillary pulled away, still giggling.

“I couldn’t stop kissing you, you know? The love of my life, and now, the mother of my child,” Bill said of her adoringly.

“Oh stop it, Bill. You shower me with praises too much,” Hillary pushed back gently, but she was blushing.

“I’m just so happy, you know? Took us quite a while to have a baby, but now, it’s here!” Bill was still ecstatic.

“I feel the same way too, Billy,” Hillary gently stroked her husband’s cheek, her eyes only on him. “I will always be grateful that I have stood up and walked towards you in the law school library when I couldn’t finally stand you staring at me.”

“But you were staring back, Baby.”

“I know. And up to this day, I still find it ridiculous that we were staring each other for that long and not know each other’s name. I had to put a stop to that abomination,” she whispered as she sucked his neck.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not here. Not in the living room,” Bill stopped her from going further. “Our friends will be arriving here soon. They might report us to the authorities if they walked in on us.”

Hillary sighed. “Yes, you’re right.” She wanted to be in the bubble of bliss a little longer, but there was no way around it. Sooner or later, they would have to go back to the reality that they were living in Rodinia, a perfectly engineered society.

A perfect hellhole, that is. Or at least, in their opinion.

But they, Bill and Hillary, were the only ones in their community, and probably in their own country who had that opinion.

Because people are not allowed to have an opinion. Or at least, a dissenting one.

And Bill and Hillary were among those few who dared to defy the powers that be.

Of course, nobody knew that. Otherwise, they’d be executed on the spot.

“Baby,” Hillary’s face suddenly darkened. “What are we going to do?”

Bill caught on easily. “You have to leave.”

“No, Billy. Not without you.”

Bill shook his head. “It’s the only way, Hilly. They’ll be suspicious if we both left. I’ll have to stay behind.”

“No,” Hillary’s eyes slowly began to mist. “They’ll torture you if I left. Or even kill you!” She cupped his cheek again. “I cannot let that happen.”

“And I cannot let you and our baby live in here,” Bill said sadly. “I’d gladly endure the pain if it meant a better life for you and our child.”

“But Bill, I cannot live without you. And our baby will need a father too,” Hillary begged tearfully.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I wish I could have it another way. It’ll kill me not to see our baby grow into a wonderful human being but knowing that he or she will have a good future with you is enough to sustain me. Our baby’s future is more important than my safety.”

“Oh Bill,” she succumbed into his arms, drenching his shirt with her tears. “Billy…”

“It’s okay, Darlin’. Just keep me in your dreams, okay?”

“Always,” she whispered against his chest.

**_Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, August 1979_ **

“Ma’am, I am sorry, but food and beverage are not allowed inside the aircraft,” the flight attendant told Hillary, who was carrying a cup of coffee as she boarded Rodinia Air flight RA4245. That was the last flight of the day departing for the capital city of Aldenkirk.

“Oh, I see. Can I just run to the transit area and dispose of this?” Hillary asked.

“Of course, Ma’am. But you have to be in the aircraft within five minutes otherwise you’ll miss the flight.”

Hillary smiled. “Of course.”

She looked at her companions. They were seated together, but she skillfully dodged them by pretending that she had left something at the hotel and had to go back and checked-in much later than them. They were all seated in the middle of the plane, while she was assigned at the back. Hillary saw that they were all either reading the in-flight magazines or were already snoozing. Good. Nobody was paying attention.

Hillary smiled back at the attendant and quietly slipped outside the plane. She bumped into several ascending passengers, and she mouthed her apologies. As she was walking, she prayed that none of her companions thought of looking at the windows, otherwise her plan would be ruined. She kept walking, increasing her pace as she approached the transit area. She thanked her lucky stars that the plane was just a walking distance from the transit area.

Once she reached the transit area, she immediately disposed of the coffee in the nearest trash bin. As a pretense, she went into the ladies’ room to wash her hands. She checked her watch. It had already been five minutes since she left the aircraft. The doors were about to close, and she breathed a little.

But as soon as she left the ladies room, an unwelcome sound destroyed her calm. A cool voice of a woman announced over the airport’s PR: _Paging Passenger Hillary Rodham. Please board Air Rodinia Flight RA4245. I repeat. Paging Passenger Hillary Rodham. Please board Air Rodinia Flight RA4245._

Silently panicking, Hillary hurried towards the food stalls inside the transit area, pretending to buy a sandwich. The soft sound of her name was thundering inside her eardrums, like a horn blowing at her. _Please, please, please make it stop_ , she silently prayed. For ten or so minutes, the non-stop announcement of her name was torture to her, threatening to make her ears bleed.

Suddenly, she heard a loud noise of an airplane engine. The sound of airplane engines was common in airports, but this distinct sound caught her attention. Unable to escape her curiosity, Hillary slowly walked towards the departure area and saw Air Rodinia starting to move. The doors had already closed, and the aircraft was making its slow swerve towards the runway. Still in awe of the sight before her, she approached the windows in the departure area and watched the airplane position itself in the long runway, constantly gaining its speed until its wheels left the ground, the airplane flying up and away from the Amsterdam Airport.

Freedom. That was what freedom looked like. At least for her, it was.

She and her unborn child were finally free from the oppressive regime in Rodinia. She could finally give the life that her child deserved.

When the plane was out of sight, Hillary turned around and suddenly found a burly man standing behind her.

“Are you Hillary Rodham?” said the man.

Hillary became rooted on the spot, the color of her face suddenly draining.

**_Undisclosed Location, Rodinia, September 1979_ **

Bill’s arms hung in the air, his hands in shackles that were suspended from the ceiling. His face was drenched in blood, as well as his chest and back. The man behind him, a large guy wearing a sack with slits to cover his face, was holding a thick whip. Another man, wearing a military uniform, was in front of Bill.

“So, Clinton. Where is your wife going?” interrogated the military man.

“Like hell, I’ll tell you,” Bill spat on the man, staining the man’s uniform with his blood. The man nodded, and the large guy behind Bill delivered a huge blow on his back, causing him to scream in pain, a scream that could make any human squirm.

“We do not have to do this, Clinton. Tell us where your wife is and you’ll be spared,” said the military man.

“I’d rather die,” said a defiant Bill.

The military man’s face remained unchanged. “Fine. We can arrange that.” The military man nodded, and the guy behind Bill seemed to know what to do. The man in the sack let go of the whip and carried a bucket full of water. Without warning, he dumped the ice-cold water all over Bill, who became numb at the sensation. The large man took some small clipped wires from the floor and attached them to Bill’s nipples.

The military man sat in front of a small machine, very much like a cross between a radio and a typewriter. The wires attached to Bill’s body was attached to the machine.

“So, any last words, Clinton?”

“Fuck you,” Bill spat again.

“So be it,” the military man hissed.

And so, he pressed a button on the machine, and an ear-piercing scream, worse than any other scream that came from Bill’s mouth, echoed across the vast, dark room. Surges of electric shock flowed through Bill’s veins, burning every cell in his body. He was squirming and thrashing while in chains, this torture threatening to rip his soul from his body.

His screams were loud and ear-piercing.

But nobody heard him.


	2. Confirmation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the awesome feedback on the first chapter and I am thrilled that you are excited as well! You make this sick girl *cough* *cough* very happy! 
> 
> In other news, the short epilogue of Just a Coincidence is nearly finished. I hope I can upload by tomorrow. 
> 
> I'll just go back to bed and reply to the comments later. Tah tah!

_**Senate Gallery, Capitol Hill, January 13, 2009**_

The gallery of the senate went into a wild applause when Secretary of State nominee Hillary Rodham stood up from the witness chair and hugged her daughter Chelsea, who had been beaming all throughout the confirmation hearing, along with Hillary's chief of staff Cheryl Mills and personal aide Huma Abedin. Senators Kerry, Menendez and Lugar, all from the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, joined the applause when the marathon confirmation hearing had ended, watching the Secretary of State nominee and her daughter share a tender moment. 

Some days were better than the others, and this was one of them.

"I'm so proud of you, Mom," Chelsea gushed has she held her Mother as tightly as possible. "I can't even describe how great you were in there! So much grace under pressure! Other people would have flinched and you didn't even sweat!"

"Thank you, Sweetie. It really means a lot, coming from you," Hillary cooed.

"I am the proudest daughter in the world right now," Chelsea said.

"Oh stop it, Chels," Hillary pulled back from her daughters embrace and cupped her face with her two hands as if she was a a kid. She took a deep breath and looked at her child admiringly. "I don't know what I did to deserve you or all of these good things coming to us."

"I can't speak for myself, because I am a naughty kid myself," Chelsea giggled, "but you deserve everything you are getting now, Mom. You worked hard. You raised me even without a husband. You are a super woman, Mom."

Hillary's eyes were suddenly filled with sadness. Thankfully, Chelsea was oblivious to the change in her mother's mood.

"Yeah, it was just the two of us, Chels. You and me against the world."

This day was not meant for Hillary to dwell upon her sadness, because her melancholic thoughts were broken when Senators Kerry, Menendez and Lugar cut through the cheering crowd to offer Hillary their congratulations.

"Well done, Secretary Rodham," Senator Kerry shook her hand.

"President Obama couldn't have picked a better nominee," said Senator Lugar.

"We look forward to working with you for - hopefully - the next four years," added Senator Menendez.

"Thank you for your warm, Wishes Senators," Hillary thanked the men. "May I introduce my daughter Chelsea?"

"Hello Senators," Chelsea greeted Kerry, Menendez and Lugar.

"Your daughter is a fine young woman," Kerry complimented. "Any interest in public service, like your mother?"

"I am currently taking my Ph.D., Mr. Kerry and I am working with Planned Parenthood," Chelsea replied.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all," Senator Menendez chuckled.

"Indeed," agreed Senator Kerry. "Chelsea, if you don't mind, we'd like to speak to your mother in private?"

"Of course." Chelsea stepped back and kissed her mother. Hillary told her to go and wait for her at home, to which latter obliged.  
Once Chelsea was gone, the mood between Hillary and the senators became suddenly serious.

"Shell we go?" asked Senator Kerry.

"Yes," Hillary agreed.

The senators left the gallery for a short press conference announcing Hillary's expected confirmation. Hillary was left with Cheryl and Huma, who were asked to wait for her house as well. Hillary, still inside the gallery, fielded some questions from reporters covering the State Department. When the reporters were done with their questions, Hillary, using the stealth skills she had mastered since 1979, quietly slipped outside the gallery and walker her way towards the Senate SCIF.

Inside the SCIF, several people were already waiting. Speaker Pelosi and Majority Leader Harry Reid were talking. The chairpersons and ranking members of the House and Senate committees on Intelligence and Foreign Relations where there too, as well as heads of the CIA, Leon Panetta, and FBI, Bob Mueller. The last time these officials had been in the same room altogether was when Hillary, along with her FBI and CIA counterparts, briefed the leaders of Congress about the 9/11 attacks.

"Ms. Rodham, you're here. I guess we can start now?"

"Yes we can," Senator Kerry interrupted, who was just arrived with Senator Corker, the ranking member of the Foreign Relations Committee.

"Alright, take a seat everybody," Senator Reid said.

Everydid as they were told. The Senators and Congresspersons sat on one end of the room, while Hillary, Panetta and Mueller were on the other side.

Speaker Pelosi opened the session.

"As you may already know, we have called for this special session prior to your confirmation to ascertain your credibility to handle the United States' foreign policy," Pelosi said. "We have no doubts about your expertise, but we are concerned with your ability to detach yourself from certain foreign policy decisions that may be of personal value to you."

"I understand, Madam Speaker." Hillary saw this coming from a mile away, the moment President Obama called her to Chicago to offer the job of Secretary of State to her.

"We have already read the underlying intelligence, and we have been made aware of your prior relationship with the Supreme Leader of Rodinia, Bill Clinton," said Senator Reid.

"I understand your concerns. However, I can assure you that my previous relationship with Clinton had not, has not and will not affect my decisions regarding the foreign policy of the United States towards Rodinia," said Hillary.

"I can attest to Ms. Rodham's impartiality," said Mueller. "She had always deferred crucial decisions regarding Rodinia to her superiors."

"But what about now that she's the Boss at State? Who shall she refer to? What if we have a nuclear crisis with Rodinia?" Senator Feinstein, the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee, interjected.

"Senator, I will be forming a committee comprising the top staff at State to collectively make the decisions regarding Rodinia," Hillary responded.

"And who will communicate your decision to the White House?"

"I will, Senator. I cannot see why I cannot serve in that capacity," Hillary stood her ground.

"I do not see why not as well," said Senator Reid.

"The official position of the State Department regarding Rodinia will not be affected by my personal feelings on their ruler. But at the end of the day, it is the White House who will have their final say on that matter. Whatever President Obama wishes me to do, I will do so without hesitation," she said firmly.

The Members of Congress were satisfied, except for Senator Feinstein.

"I may have to think about my vote," Senator Feinstein said. "You are a prime target of Rodinian espionage and influence campaign. Your husband might blackmail you."

"And so are other Secretaries of State," Hillary corrected Senator Feinstein. "And for the record, Senator, I have nothing in my past in Rodinia that can be used for blackmail. Our friends in the intelligence community can back it up."

"We have made an assessment regarding that, Senator, and we believe that Secretary Rodham has limited exposure for blackmail from the Rodinians," affirmed Panetta. 

"Bill Clinton has been keenly observing you for years," Senator Feinstein noted. "We know the Rodinians had already ordered your assassination multiple times."

"They are especially interested in me because I am refugee, as well as an American citizen. And if the people of Rodinia found out that I managed to successfully escape, and I am married to their Supreme Leader, a revolt will happen. If they try to hit me this time, then so be it," Hillary responded without emotion, and half of the room gasped. "Let the Rodinians know that I am one of them. My life is of no consequence for their freedom that they were so cruelly denied."

The rest of the people in the room suddenly became silent, including Senator Feinstein. Her eloquence, fierce resolve and determination to execute the job that would be handed to her removed the doubts that had been hanging above her.

"Well then. Does any of you have further questions?" asked Speaker Pelosi.

The members of Congress shook their heads. All of them, save one.

Senator Kerry raised his hand.

"What's your question, Senator?" Speaker Pelosi asked.

"If in any way, the United States decide to execute the Supreme Leader of Rodinia, will you try to hinder the actions of the United States?"

"He was my husband, Senator," Hillary said stoically. "Whatever our relationship was in the past, it had, has and will remain where it belong: in the past."

"But what about your daughter?" Senator Kerry inquired further.

"She does not know who her father is, and she doesn't have to know," Hillary replied.  

Senator Kerry nodded. "That's all, Madam Speaker."

"Well, I think we covered everything. I trust that you will execute the Office of Secretary of State to the best of your abilities, Ms. Rodham?"

"You can count on it, Madam Speaker," Hillary smiled, relieved that the ordeal was over.

Or so she thought.

**_Government Complex, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, January 14, 2009_ **

The soldiers guarding the Office of the Supreme Leader raised their hands in salute as Bill Clinton entered his office overlooking the Aldenkirk Military Complex. He had barely gotten any sleep. Actually, he had barely gotten any since President Obama had nominated his Secretary of State.  
Bill took a newspaper from the stack on his desk. He opened the paper, and on the front page of the New York Times lay a picture of his wife facing questioning senators during her confirmation hearing.

The headline read: SENATE CONFIRMS HILLARY RODHAM AS SOS, 98-2. 

The veins on his temple threatening to explode, he crumpled the paper and threw it forcefully in the nearest trash bin.

 


	3. A New Trial

**_Government Complex, City of Aldenkirk, Rodinia, January 14, 2009_ **

Bill's aide-de-camp, John Podesta, opened the door to his office, followed by the chiefs of the Rodinian State Security Service and the heads of each branch of the military. Every 9 AM on the dot, regardless where Bill was, these men would meet with Bill and update him on the nation's top secrets, and on the current state of affairs. Bill, a man with an eye for details, intensified these briefings during the past few years, requiring the full presence of the state's intelligence and military services rather than a couple of bureaucrats filling him in.

“Good morning, Sir,” John greeted Bill. The other men followed suit.

“Good morning.” Bill sat behind his large desk, and the men remained standing in front of him, ready for today’s presentation. “Gentlemen, what do we have for today?”

The head of the Rodinian Intelligence Service, Michael Dulles, stepped forward and handed Bill a large binder. Bill received the binder and opened it, fixing his glasses.

“These are the compilation of every news report and opinion column on every outlet in America about the incoming president, Barack Obama, Sir,” said Dulles. “The opinion is mostly positive on an incoming president, as expected, but his was rather glowing. The Americans adored him, Sir.”

“Of course. Americans love their globalist politicians. He simply bathed himself in honey by blasting a war he would later support,” remarked Bill.

“Precisely, Sir,” said Dulles.

“I don’t recall asking you to speak, nor you were permitted to do so,” Bill raised an eyebrow on Dulles, who was flustered by his commander-in-chief. “Shall I remind you of the protocols of State?”

“No, Sir. I apologize,” Dulles bowed his head, in combination of shame and fear.

Bill removed his pointed look from Dulles and focused on the large binder in front of him.

“So Goss, with Obama at the top job, and that Hillary Rodham at State, it’s safe to say that this administration is much more reluctant to take military action against us?”

Howard Goss, Rodinia’s foreign minister, stepped forward.

“With any other Secretary of State, I would be inclined to say yes, Sir,” said Goss, “but this is Hillary Rodham we are talking about, Rodinia’s staunch enemy inside the State Department.”

“We all know Hillary Rodham hates us and this regime,” stated Bill with no hint of surprise, “but with the anti-war sentiment in America, I am sure that she will not side with the American generals against us.”

Goss shook his head. “With all due respect Sir, it is Hillary Rodham who was one of the strongest proponents of the Iraq War. Although she was given faulty intelligence by the CIA, she did not redact her support for the war even though it was clear that it had become a complete failure. She believed that an immature pullout from the war would be much more disastrous.”

“So,” Bill rubbed his jaw, “Hillary Rodham’s a hawk,” he said more to himself rather than to his men. Somehow, he wasn’t at all surprised to learn that she wasn’t afraid to utilize military force when necessary.

“We need to impress on them that we cannot be dealt with easily,” Bill added.

The men silently nodded.

“Goss, Dulles, I want to spook this administration early on,” Bill ordered, “now that our arsenals are getting close to completion and testing. Am I correct in that assessment, General Kincaid?

“Yes, Sir,” said General Kincaid, the chief of the Rodinian Army. “We are well ahead of schedule. Phase Two of Project Paradise is proceeding as planned.”

“Good. What do Western experts know about Paradise?” asked Bill.

“Sir, to them, Paradise was still in the realms of myth, an urban legend,” said Dulles.

“Source?” asked Bill sharply.

“Intercepted communications between the CIA and the MI6,” replied Dulles. “The French have spoken of Paradise also but they have no idea what it is as of our last intercept which was a week ago.”

“Very well,” said Bill, satisfied. “My speech to the Rodinian military on the same day as the American President’s inauguration. I want it to be circulated on the internet and make sure that he notices.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Dulles.

“Anything else I need to see? What about the news circulated all over the country?”

“Sir,” Ronan Cavalier, the Rodinian Minister of Information, stepped forward with another large binder which Bill eagerly perused. “Sir, according to our search engine tracker, people had a sudden interest in Ms. Rodham because of her supposed Rodinian roots. They were curious to know whether she was indeed of Rodinian origin. Our news outlets have refuted this claim, saying that she was American born.”

That was true, Bill thought. She was born to an American mother and a Rodinian father.

“Anything else they searched about Hillary Rodham?” asked Bill.

“N-n-n-no, Sir. Nor anyone has peddled about your r-r-r-r-relationship with her,” replied Cavalier, his voice trembling.

“Good,” Bill finished, not wanting to be reminded of his past. “Make sure it stays that way.”

“Yes, Sir,” bowed Cavalier.

Bill dismissed his men and found himself alone in his office again, pondering the incoming United States government. As always, talking with the United States president, the leader of the free world, had always been tricky. He remembered the saga of 2002, where George W. Bush had completely ignored him because the latter was focused on Iraq and Afghanistan, despite his incessant threats to build the Rodinian nuclear arsenal. Bush was fixated on Iraq's WMD's, which Bill knew all along was nonexistent, but he kept ignoring Bill's threats, that during the years when America was worried about the deteriorating Middle East, he was able to quietly execute Project Paradise, the plan to launch a warhead that could touch the US mainland, something the likes of Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Il could only dream of. Now that Project Paradise is in its final stages, Bill was planning to extract everything he could from the United States government.

But still, Bill knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially if the person executing the United States' foreign policy is the most anti-Rodinian person he had ever met: his wife (they never got a divorce due to her absence in Rodinia). Being a recipient of the protections of the United States, Bill knew she would be fiercely protective of the United States' interest, much to his chagrin because he was the one who suggested to seek asylum to the West in the first place. Oh how wrong he was to have thought of that. If he knew back then what he had known now, he would never have thought of sending Hillary and their child there. In a way, he was blaming himself for being an irresponsible father for that. 

Hillary, Hillary, Hillary. He had never seen her for years. At least, in person. He had seen her pictures from intel intercepts, online videos and newspaper articles. She had chopped her hair from her sleek mane he had remembered. He wasn't very much approving of her new look. That was not to say that he still found her beautiful. Indeed, she was one of the few women he had found as such. Being the Supreme Leader of Rodinia, he had seen a lot of Rodinian women, fawning over her, craving for his attention and approval. However, he didn't care of any of that. Bill still found himself craving for the approval of his wife, though he bet his life she didn't want anything more to do with him.

A ring from the intercom broke his reverie. The sound of his aide-de-camp's voice echoed through his office.

"Sir, we need to leave. Routine inspection at the Navy at 11, Sir."

Bill replied, "I'll be right there," and fixed his tie and the badges that adorned his coat. Being the commander-in-chief of the Rodinian military, he had acquired all those decorations over the years, ever since he was a cadet in the 80's. He quickly rose up the ranks, and by the time he was barely in his 50's, he managed to stage a successful coup and grab the seat of government from his predecessor.

Being a Supreme Leader wasn't easy. He fought tooth and nail to be on the highest pedestal of Rodinian power.

Still, he wondered if Hillary was ever proud of him.

**_Bill Clinton's Private Quarters, Government Complex, City of Aldenkirk, Rodinia, January 14, 2009_ **

After a long day of inspections, meetings, and ceremonials, Bill found himself longing the softness of his bed. It wasn't the finest bed made in the history of the human race. It wasn't even the softest bed he had ever laid in (that honor would belong to his wedding bed). But still, it offered him the peace and quiet that was very much missing in the world he was living in. No one to bother him, nothing to boggle his mind on. It was just him and the bed.

Having changed into his pajamas, Bill slipped into the bed and turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. There lay his battered copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu and his reading glasses. He picked up the book and put on the glasses. He pulled the drawer and inside, a dust-laden box sat hidden. He took the box and opened it. A small, tarnished band sat inside the box. Bill pulled the back out of the box and inserted it on his finger, just like he had been doing for the past thirty years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the third chapter. I hope this gives an insight to our mysterious Bill. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. Were you shocked? *wink*
> 
> P.S. MY AUSTRALIAN VISA JUST GOT APPROVED HUHUHUHUHUHU I AM DEFINITELY SEEING HILLARY!!!!!!!


	4. Greetings

**_The National Mall, Washington, DC, January 20, 2009_ **

"Congratulations, Mr. President."

Hillary hugged the newly-sworn in Barack Obama as he passed by the row where his cabinet had been seated. He was hugging and shaking hands with each of his cabinet member right after he had delivered his inaugural speech. Cheers from the people in the Mall almost drowned the congratulatory greetings that met Barack Obama left and right in the inaugural stage. Hillary was glad and proud to witness history and to serve alongside a great man. It was the second proudest moment in her life.

The first of which was seeing Chelsea receive her degree a few years ago.

"Hillary," Obama cheerfully greeted his Secretary of State, hugging her like a dear friend in front of millions of people.

"Thank you so much. And thank you for answering the call of duty."

"I'm grateful for the opportunity America gave me," she replied, smiling. "If not for the US, my daughter and I would have been dead."

"Well said," he remarked. "You are the living, breathing example of the American dream."

"And so are you, Mr. President. So are you."

Obama clapped his hand on her shoulder. "We are, we are. and for that, we are thankful."

"Precisely."

Now that the inaugural ceremony had concluded, Hillary followed President Obama inside the Capitol for the inaugural lunch. Members of Congress, the incoming cabinet, and some foreign dignitaries were invited to the lunch, Hillary included. Once inside, she was directed to the table with Tom Donilon, the incoming National Security Adviser, his wife, and Bob Gates, the newly-sworn in Secretary of Defense.

"Hillary," greeted Tom.

"Good to see you again, Hillary," said Bob.

"Tom, Bob," she greeted the two men warmly.

"May I introduce my wife, Catherine?" Tom pointed to his wife.

"Hillary, this is Catherine. Catherine, this is Hillary."

"Hi there," Hillary kissed Catherine's cheek.

"Nice to meet you," said Catherine.

"And this is my wife, Becky" Bob interjected.

"Hello, Hillary," said Becky, kissing Hillary's cheek. "Bob told me a lot about you."

"Hi, Becky. All good, I hope?"

"Yes. Sorry if my husband has been a pain in the ass," Becky quipped.

"Becky!"

The women giggled.

"Bob had been a pain in the ass, yeah. But it's necessary. I'd endure the insufferable Bob Gates for the love of America,"

Hillary said, grinning.

The rest of the table laughed at Hillary's quip as they all sat down to wait for the food to be served.

"Ah, Rodham. We've known each other for years and yet you still can't stand me, huh?" said Bob.

"Oh, Bob. You're a Republican. I'm a Democrat. Of course, we can't stand each other," Hillary laughed.

"Odd one out in the NSC," Tom joked.

"Hey! Bipartisanship! Something something!" Bob chuckled.

"Yeah sure," Hillary mockingly rolled her eyes.

Bob squeezed her shoulders. "I kid. I kid. Where's Neil, by the way?" he asked, referring to Hillary's longtime boyfriend.

"His Dad just had a stroke. He had to stay with his parents in Missouri," Hillary replied.

"He missed your confirmation hearing, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but he watched the entire thing on TV," she said. "He and his parents. Well, they're Republicans so they aren't too happy seeing me serve a Democratic president, but they're nevertheless supportive."

"I'm glad," said Bob. He took his empty wine glass and raised it in the air. "To Hillary and her budding love life."

"Hey! It's not anymore budding. We're already dating for ten years!" she laughed.

"Well, you're still not married," said Bob.

Hillary quietly groaned, dreading any conversation that was about her and concerning marriage.

"Hey, don't be too hard on Hillary now, Bob," Tom said on her behalf.

"I'm not, I'm just teasing," said Bob.

"It's alright. Bob's right. Maybe Neil and I can still have children," she hid her disdain in her quip.

"Hillary!" Tom and Bob broke into laughter.

"Well, I didn't say we'll procreate, silly!"

"You're right, you're right," Bob wiped the tear out of his eye due to excessive laughter. 

The chattering suddenly died down when everybody saw Barack and Michelle Obama enter the dining hall of the Capitol, walking hand in hand and beaming at everybody in the room. The people all stood up and gave the President and the First Lady a standing ovation. Obama caught Hillary's eye, he gave her a small nod.

"I wonder what it's like to be the First Lady," Catherine thought out loud.

"Is that a hint that you want Tom to run for office?" Hillary teased.

"Oh, no, no, no, Catherine. You're already the First Lady of 95 Illinois Avenue," Tom said.

"Neil's running for Senate, right?" Bob said. "And for sure he's gonna run for President. Imagine, future First Lady Hillary Rodham Bosworth."

Marriages, check. First Ladies, check. Bob sure was making Hillary uncomfortable.

Of course, Hillary didn't dare tell everyone she was the de facto First Lady of a foreign country. She wondered if Bob was already made aware of her deepest-held secret.

Much to Hillary's relief, the inaugural lunch had commenced, and their conversation about marriages and First Ladies was buried. They were served their meal and some wine. Everyone in the room - Republicans, Democrats, and independents - toasted with the new President, hopeful for a better future for America.

After the luncheon, the cabinet members were called to the White House for their first formal meeting and some photo-ops. After that, Hillary witnessed the signing of President Obama's first executive order recognizing the LGBT partners of federal workers, entitling them to benefits and responsibilities as any other spouse. Hillary had been championing this cause for a long time at State, and she was grateful that it became President Obama's first order of action.

After the affairs at the White House, Hillary had planned to retire for the day and have dinner with Chelsea. However, just as she stepped into her car, a call from Jim Steinberg, her Deputy, interrupted her plans.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Hillary. It's me, Jim."

"Oh hey, Jim. What's up?"

"I know you're not supposed to be at Foggy Bottom until tomorrow for your welcome ceremony, but could you please drop by at the office? You need to see something," Jim said.

Hillary sighed. The Obama administration was barely a day old and yet, somewhere around the globe, somebody was already trying to fuck with them. Who could that be?

When Hillary arrived at Foggy Bottom, Jim was already waiting for her at the entrance. His face was unreadable, and it made Hillary a bit antsier.

"To your office, Hill."

She nodded, jostling as quickly as she possibly could. Inside her office, a bunch of people was already waiting: Cheryl, Huma, Victoria Nuland, the State Department spokesperson, and some staff from the Rodinian Affairs Section at State.

"What is it?" Hillary asked, panting.

Huma, who was holding a laptop, laid it on a table and played a YouTube video.

The handsome face of Bill Clinton greeted her.

"We take pride in our Rodinian roots! We take pride in our nation!" Bill Clinton said as his fingers accentuated each word. 

"What is this?" Hillary asked.

"Routine military inspection," said Cheryl. "It's rare the Rodinians leak anything. Their state media released this."

"He wants us to notice," Hillary said, referring to Obama and herself.

"Indeed," said Jim,"First day high, huh?"

"Play the video," Hillary told Huma.

Huma did as she was told.

"We will not stop until Rodinia takes its place among the nation. We will one day reclaim the glory of our beloved country, the glory that the imperialist United States have taken away from us," Bill voice echoed across her office, his clenched fist high in the air.

"Make Rodinia Great Again, basically," said Jim.

"One day, the Americans will face our wrath. One day, they will experience the suffering they have inflicted upon us and our forebears. They will forever remember the day Rodinia took Her revenge against the men who violated Her!" Bill ended his speech with wild applause. 

"He's nuts if you ask me," Hillary said, "he thinks his penis is the biggest in the world."

Huma, Jim, and Cheryl shifted uncomfortably. 

"He'd be quite a stud if he wasn't a homicidal maniac," interjected Amy Murphy, a staff from Rodinian Affairs.

Hillary raised her eyebrow, prompting her three closest aides to fear for a meltdown. Much to their relief, Hillary simply let that comment go.

"You have a bad taste for men, Sweetie," Hillary told Amy. "Don't ever date a fascist, let alone marry one."

"Sorry," said Amy embarrassed.

"Now, I'll be going to the White House tomorrow. Call Rahm Emanuel and show this to him," Hillary told Huma. "And for the rest of you, I want intel from the CIA regarding this. I want a full report of this for tomorrow. I will be briefing the President on this."

"Yes, Ma'am," they said in unison.

"And Jim?"

"Yes?"

"I'll be having dinner with Chelsea to tonight. Call me if Bill Clinton makes more trouble. I won't have the United States nuked under my watch. Especially by that white-haired maniac."

As Jim nodded, Hillary turned around and left the office, muttering Rodinian curse words under her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a flashback. I'll be dropping some flashback chapters every now and then to accompany the main story line. The first flashback is from 1996, when Hillary was still a bureaucrat at State. :)
> 
> Edit: I mistakenly called Bill a "gray-haired maniac". Should have been white :)


	5. Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I dropped this chapter early, because I'll be busy during the weekends ^_^

**_Harry S. Truman Building, Washington D.C., October 11, 1996_ **

Hillary had planned to go home early and have dinner with Chelsea, just as she had always done for the past 15 years. Chelsea wanted to stay at her friend's house for a sleepover, but Hillary insisted that she come home and have dinner with her. Chelsea was confused as to why her mother always celebrated that day for as long as she could remember, and all she ever got from her mother was "It's a time to celebrate your family, Chels." As far as Chelsea knew, nobody ever spent a day in the year just to "celebrate family" aside from Christmas or Thanksgiving. But, Chelsea didn't have the heart to contradict her mother on this, so she had indulged her with a quiet dinner on that date for the past fifteen years.

And now, in the sixteenth year of this peculiar Rodham family tradition, it seemed that Hillary wouldn't be able to make it. She had asked her boss at Rodinian Affairs to let her take the day off early, but there was a throve of new intel from CIA that needed her attention right away.

Hillary was forced back to her desk, and there was nothing she could do about it. She reached for her phone and called her daughter at home.

"Hello?" Chelsea answered after three rings.

"Hi, Chels. It's me, Mom."

"Hey Mom. Are you coming home yet?"

Hillary sighed. "No, Sweetie. I'm locked at work. Is it too late for you to stay with Jill tonight? I’m being held up at work.”

“I don’t know. I’ll just stay at the house, Mom. No need to worry,” said Chelsea.

Hillary was secretly grateful for her very understanding daughter. “Alright. I’ll just order pizza for you. No need to burn the stove.”

“Mom!”

“Seriously, Honey. You’re sixteen and you can’t even fry an egg without burning it. I can’t even trust you to boil water.”

“We’ll have you resume those cooking lessons, Mom.”

Hillary sighed again. She was guilty of not spending enough time with Chelsea. She was barely seeing her during weekdays. “Fine. This Saturday. Fried eggs and bacon. It’s a start.”

“Alright,” Chelsea didn’t seem to be too happy about the very basic lesson. “I’ll wait for the pizza then.”

“Okay. Finish your homework. I want it done by the time I get home.”

"Okay, Mom. See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too, Honey. Bye."

"Bye."

Hillary quickly hung up and ordered that pizza for her daughter. Once she finished ordering, Hillary put the phone down, a little disappointed that she might not get to spend the evening with her daughter on this special occasion. But her sighing would get her nowhere. If she wanted to still make it for their dinner, she would have to peruse the documents right away.

A thick binder lay on top of her desk, delivered by the CIA staff to her. According to them, these new trove of documents were smuggled out of Rodinia by one of their spies in the country. They said that the current Supreme Leader of Rodinia had been grooming a successor for quite some time now, and finally, they were able to discover the identity of this supposed successor.

She looked around. Everybody had already gone home, and she was the only one left at the office.

Hillary opened the binder, labeled "CLASSIFIED", and she perused the document with great interest.

She read through the first pages. The report was long, descriptive and rich in detail, but she wasn’t reading anything that she had already known. Inside the State Department, she was regarded as the leading expert on Rodinian, having been born and lived there herself. She was an asset to the State Department in that regard.  

She skipped a few pages, and her eyes quickly darted to a paragraph that was highlighted in yellow:

> _The Intelligence Community can conclude with high confidence that Rodinian Supreme Council, led by the Supreme Leader Desmond Loiseau, that they have chosen Col. William Jefferson Clinton as Loiseau's second-in-command, putting in place a line of succession in the Rodinian regime for the first time since Loiseau acquired power._

Hillary blinked. Exhaustion must have been taking its toll on her. 

> _The Intelligence Community can conclude with high confidence that Rodinian Supreme Council, led by the Supreme Leader Desmond Loiseau, that they have chosen Col. William Jefferson Clinton as Loiseau's second-in-command._

Her breath stilled, her heart stopped, but her eyes moved rapidly to the name that she thought she would never see again.

_William Jefferson Clinton_

Her heart constricted, and she couldn't breathe. Her eyes started to mist as her fingers, with a mind of their own, gently caressed those letters that spelled the name of her husband.

The husband she thought was dead.

For years, she had always assumed that Bill had heroically died so that she and Chelsea could have a better life in the US. She had always hoped that she could just find a single sentence about her husband from the intelligence documents she reviewed over her years at State. Every time she would read cables and intel reports from Rodinia, her heart would always race, hoping for news about Bill. Was he still alive? Was he well? Or if he's already dead, she wanted confirmation. Anything other than not knowing what happened to him.

But over the years, Hillary had lost hope that she would ever find a word about her husband's whereabouts. She had gone to accept that the Rodinian regime probably had killed him in torture, joining the nameless men and women who had heroically died in defiance of the cruel regime. After all, that was the likely end of every loved one of those who defected from Rodinia. She and Bill had known that this would happen, and he was prepared for the worst.

Nothing. Not a word about Bill.  

Until that day, on the day their twenty-first wedding anniversary, Hillary was given the biggest surprise of her life.  

"Oh my God," Hillary gasped.

The mist in her eyes had turned to tears of happiness, and those tears fell into the pages of the intel report. She had never felt such joy ever since she gave birth to Chelsea. For the first time, she knew he was alive, and he was okay. He didn't die when the Rodinians tried to kill him, and she had never been so proud of him. 

At that moment, something clicked inside her, and hope sprung in her chest.

They could be whole again. She, Bill and Chelsea.

"Billy, what a present this is. And on our anniversary too," she whispered, covering her lips with her fingers. Regardless whether Bill was responsible for this leak, she was still grateful for him. She was grateful for his sacrifices, and now, for his constant thoughts. She had to evidence to that effect, but her heart knew that somewhere out there, on that day, twenty-one years after they exchanged their vows, he was looking at the same night sky as she was, admiring how perfect the world was.      

**_Hillary Rodham’s Residence, Washington D.C., October 11, 1996_ **

Chelsea was surprised to find her Mom in tears when she opened the door. She was greeted with a tight hug and loud cries from her sobbing mother. Confused and distraught for her mother, Chelsea gently rubbed Hillary’s back and pulled her inside the house so the latter would be more comfortable.

“There, there, Mom,” Chelsea cooed as she led Hillary towards the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you, Chels. I love you so much,” Hillary simply said.

Hillary’s response did not answer the questions that were going through Chelsea’s mind.

“And I love you too, Mom,” Chelsea replied, “but why are you crying? Did something terrible happen?”

Hillary pulled away from her daughter’s embrace and cupped her cheeks with her hand. “Chels, on the contrary, something amazing happened. A miracle.”

Chelsea still didn’t get it. “What miracle?”

Hillary wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I cannot tell you. It’s classified, but I just want to tell you how grateful I am that you’re beside me.”

Chelsea finally began to understand, bit by bit. “It’s something from Rodinia, wasn’t it?”

Hillary nodded, tears springing from her eyes again. “Yes, Darling.”

“I’m grateful too, Mom. I’m grateful that you raised me, even though it’s hard. I can’t imagine doing all of the things you did all by myself.”

“But I wasn’t alone, Honey. I had you,” Hillary told her daughter. _And your father_ , she thought. _Your father who I thought was already dead._

Chelsea seemed visibly touched. “And I had you, Mom. We did great, didn’t we?”

Hillary nodded. _Your father would have been so proud of us._

“Let me guess, this is why we celebrate this day, isn’t it? The same reason why you’re so happy right now,” said Chelsea.

Hillary simply looked at her daughter with awe.  She couldn’t believe she was blessed with this incredible child.

“Yes, Honey. It is the exact same reason why I am over the moon right now,” Hillary finally decided to tell Chelsea a bit about their peculiar tradition.

Chelsea snuggled closer to her mother, lifting her legs on the couch. “I’m happy that you’re happy right now.”

Hillary kissed Chelsea’s crown. “I promise, Sweetie, I‘ll tell you all about it one day. Once it’s declassified. I’ll tell you everything I know. You’ll be delighted, I promise.”

“I understand, Mom, and I cannot wait for that day,” Chelsea leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.

October 11, 1996, was a day like any other, but for the Rodham household, it was magical.

**_Bill Clinton's Private Residence, City of Aldenkirk, Rodinia, December 19, 1996_ **

"You sure?" The veins in Bill's temple threatened to explode as he listened to the report given to him by one of his spies.

"Yeah," his source said. "She told the CIA everything about your past together. She's cooperating. I wouldn't blame her for it, though. It just means she's dedicated to her job. I'd want her to work for us, to be honest."

"Fuck," Bill cursed under his breath. He should have known she would spill his secret to the authorities. How could he have forgotten that? This was his upright wife he was talking about. Too upright, to be honest.

"What do you want me to do, Sir?" asked his spy.

"Watch her and the little girl with her. I want regular updates," Bill ordered.

"Understood."

"Good. You're good at your job. Exceptionally good."

"Thank you, Sir. And may I add something to my report, Sir?"

Bill raised his brow. "What is it?"

"Congressman Neil Bosworth of Missouri is being too friendly with her," said Bill's source.

He scoffed. "She has a penchant for men who think that she's interested in them."

"He's persistent, Sir. He might wear her down someday. I heard the man would like to run for President. If she becomes First Lady, we might have an enemy in the White House."

Bill remained unfazed by his source's warnings. "She won't be America's First Lady unless she files for annulment or divorce. And that isn’t happening."

"Because it will mean she will have to go back here?"

"Precisely. One step inside this country and she will be shot to death. What she did back in the 80's was treason."

"But if she comes back when you're Supreme Leader, would you pardon her?"

Not wanting to prolong this conversation, Bill quickly put the phone down, the answer to that question crystal clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this first flashback. The next one will be after a few chapters. IDK what it'll be about yet, but it will most likely be about Bill this time. And as for the next chapter, we'll go back to the present time, where Bill will spell more trouble for Hillary. 
> 
> And don't worry, guys. They'll meet in 2009.


	6. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what...forget what I said in the last chapter. Hahahahaha.

**_United States Air Force Boeing C-32, en route to Germany, June 15, 2009_ **

Hillary just finished a call to President Obama regarding the escalating crisis with Rodinia. They had just received reports from the ground that the Rodinians had successfully launched a test missile from Strotenberg, a heavy militarized province in Rodinia, to the Atlantic Ocean, on the east of Canada and just south of Greenland. It was a significant step towards the Rodinians' goal of launching a nuclear missile to the largest cities in the US, like New York or DC or even Chicago. The successful missile tests alarmed the Germans, the Canadians, the British and of course, the Americans. The only global superpower who was suspiciously silent were the Russians.

"The Russians are secretly in bed with the Clinton, we all know that. Why are we still acting surprised?" said Jim, wiping his face with his hand.

"So much for our reset," Hillary sighed, slumping on her leather seat. "I was naive to think they'd give us a chance."

"I was surprised that you're so forgiving with the Russians," Jim said as he walked around and sat in front of her. "You are from Rodinia after all."

"Yeah, I kind of surprised myself," Hillary drank her apple juice. "That crazy son of a bitch keep ruining my weekend plans."

Jim chuckled. "Clinton, eh? What's it now? That white-haired bastard cockblocked you again? Or cockblocked Neil, rather?"

"You could say that. It's as if they're spying on me," Hillary sighed.

"Would you be surprised if they did? You are the Secretary of State, the most powerful diplomat in the world," said Jim.

"Oh stop that," Hillary dismissed Jim's description of her. "I am just a bureaucrat who rose up the ranks, that's all."

"Yeah, you are. Being a bureaucrat who rose above the ranks and the most powerful diplomat isn't mutually exclusive, Hillary."

"I guess you're right," she conceded, "But these fucking Rodinians are probably trying to ruin my love life on purpose."

Jim chuckled. "Crazy ex-husband, if you ask me."

"That would be so pathetic," she scoffed. "I wouldn't spend my resources cockblocking my ex even if I were as jealous as you think my ex is."

"Yeah, but it so happens that Clinton's ex is the Secretary of State. Boom. Two birds with one stone" countered Jim.

"Alright, alright, alright," Hillary raised her hands in mock surrender. "No more of this. We have a more pressing matter at hand. Do you have your pen and paper ready?"

"Got it," Jim's face suddenly became serious as he pulled out a small notepad and a pen from his pocket. 

"Call the Germans. Tell them we're gonna discuss this when we land at Ramstein. Angela's not gonna be happy with this, isn't she?"

"Not at all, Hill. Anything else?"

"Monitor if the UN will call for a Security Council meeting for this. Susan should update us soon."

"Uh-huh, right. Anything else?"

"Yeah," Hillary yawned, stretching her arms as she prepared to take her nap. "Wake me up if there are new developments. God, Bill Clinton knows how to keep me up at night."

Chuckling, Jim left Hillary to enjoy her well-earned nap. 

**_Executive Strategic and Planning Room, Rodinian Government Complex, City of Aldenkirk, June 15, 2009_ **

Bill and the senior leadership of the Rodinian military and intelligence services had their eyes glued on the TV screen where US Secretary of State Hillary Rodham spoke with German Chancellor Angela Merkel, forcefully condemning the latest ballistic missile tests conducted by the Rodinians. While the successful test was celebrated by Rodinians across the country, the rest of the world was quick to condemn the act, save for their ally, Russia, who had been secretly helping the Rodinians develop their nuclear arsenal over the years.

“The United States, along with the rest of the world, forcefully condemn the latest ballistic missile test that was recently conducted by the Rodinians,” Bill heard Hillary said so assertively behind the podium beside Angela Merkel. “This display of excessive force isn’t a demonstration of power, but rather a sign of weakness and instability. For so long, Bill Clinton had been bragging about his strength and capability to lead his people, and yet, he hasn’t allowed parties other than his own National Party of Rodinia to run and compete in the national elections. If he was indeed a strong leader, he would let multiple ideas flow into his country and let the people of Rodinia judge for themselves.”

As the men watched Hillary speak, they could only hide their fear and intimidation that this woman, Rodinian-born woman, would one day be the spark that would ignite a fire that they couldn’t control. Bright, articulate, and assertive, Hillary was everything these men were afraid of.

Everyone, except Bill himself.

Why would he be afraid of her? He knew her like the back of his hand. He knew what made her tick. He knew what could break her. He could influence her if he wanted to.

But despite the power he held on her, there was a catch: she could play him like a puppet on strings, and no amount of training he had on his tradecraft could erase this weakness on her. 

If only Hillary wasn’t speaking scathingly against him, he would have been contented with watching the footage on loop all day.

_She’s so beautiful, just as how I remembered it,_ he thought. _So smart and articulate, and big-hearted too_.

Bill stood up from his large seat and began pacing back and forth in the room, his men following his movements with his eyes. Deep in thought, he rubbed his jaw as he weighed his next plan of action.

Two options had been laid out for him: either he could wait for a few months for the international outrage do die down and let tensions ease out a bit, or strike whilst the iron was hot. Commencing the nuclear strikes later would certainly catch everyone off guard, but it would give them time to prepare retaliatory measures against Rodinia. On the other hand, going ahead with the strikes right away would deprive the other countries of the time and opportunity to prepare themselves for the strike.

This wasn’t an easy decision. All his time working for Rodinia, Bill had made all kinds of decisions, some easy, some difficult, some consequential, some insignificant, and so far, this was the toughest one that he had to call. It wasn’t because he was afraid to execute the plan he had been orchestrating for years. It wasn’t because he was afraid of what the international reaction would be.

It was because he might kill the two people he held most dear.

If only they were just on his side in the midst of all of this.

Bill hadn’t noticed how deep a thought he had been given on this as his face reddened so much, partly because of his rosacea.  Frankly, it was an amusing sight. However, nobody in the room dared to let out as much as a faint chuckle because it would have been their heads on the chopping block, literally. Making fun of the Supreme Leader of Rodinia was tantamount to treason, a crime punishable by firing squad.

He paced around for several more minutes, each option weighing heavily on his mind. He would have wanted to ask for a little more time, but it wasn’t a luxury he could afford at the moment, even if he ended up choosing to wait. He needed to be three steps ahead of everybody. He needed to be strategic, something he thought the North Koreans weren’t.

_What to do…what to do…what to do…_

Desperate for some enlightenment, Bill looked out at the windows, his thoughts on the US Air Force plane that was probably flying across the Atlantic.

**_United States Air Force Boeing C-32, en route to Washington D.C., June 16, 2009_ **

Hillary pulled her favorite fuzzy blanket as she prepared to sleep on the in-plane bed that was situated in her private suite. Yesterday had been a very long day, and she needed to catch up on more sleep. In the morning when she got back to DC, she would be fetching Chelsea from the airport. Chelsea was in London for a vacation with her boyfriend Marc. While Hillary had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she had always been there for her daughter. Sure, there were some missed recitals and parent-teacher conferences during Chelsea’s youth, but Hillary made sure she made up for it in double. Trips to Disneyland and musicals in New York decorated their time together. And now that Chelsea was a full-grown woman, Hillary was needed less, but that didn’t mean they would scale back on the time they spent together.

Before closing her eyes, Hillary read some last-minute emails from Chelsea from her Blackberry. Chelsea sent a photo of her and Marc on their trip to London. Behind them was the Big Ben, and Hillary could see the sparkle in the young couple’s eyes. If she had to bet, Chelsea would be going home with a ring on her hand.

The thought of her daughter getting married thrilled her, and she can’t wait for her to settle down and build her own family.

With the happy thoughts of Chelsea and hopefully, her future husband Marc, Hillary closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, her heart light yet so full.

Barely five minutes had passed when suddenly, Hillary felt the airplane lurch so hard that she was thrown out of her bed. She fell off, her left arm sustaining the impact. She was whimpered softly as the nursed her arm. She tried to move her arm, but it was too painful to do so.

“Hillary!” Huma, dressed in a loose T-shirt and PJ’s, barged into her room. “Are you alright?”

“I think I sprained my arm,” she moaned in pain, getting up using her right arm.

Hum hurried to help Hillary get up. “Here, I’ll help you.”

“Thanks, Huma,” Hillary said when she’s finally sitting on the bed. “What happened?”

“I think it’s a bad patch of turbulence,” Huma replied, “but it’s fucking bad.” Huma quickly got into the intercom inside Hillary’s room and called for help. “Hi, Huma here. I’m inside the Secretary’s suite. We need first aid. She’s hurt. We think she’s sprained.”

“Alright,” a male voice responded from the intercom. “We’ll be on our way there.”

“Thanks,” said Hillary.

Within seconds, a member of the diplomatic security arrived with a first aid kit. The man knelt in front of Hillary and began to check her arm.

“Does this hurt?” the man pressed her elbow.

“Argh!” Hillary winced in pain as Huma watched the man like a hawk from the corner.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. It seems that you’re right. It is a sprain. I will have to put a cast and a sling on your arm. Is that okay?”

Hillary nodded fervently. “Uh-huh. The faster, the better please.”

The man began to work on her arm, applying a cast on her broken elbow and then hanging the sling on her shoulder. In no time, the pain had gone, and Hillary felt much more comfortable.

“There,” the man stood up, satisfied with his work. “Do not move your elbow too much, Madam Secretary. The doctor should see you as soon as we land.”

“Yeah, thanks. What happened to the plane by the way? That lurch was horrible.”

“We’re still checking with the pilot, Ma’am. We didn’t have time to speak with them yet.”

“Oh! Alright. Please update me as soon as you hear from them,” Hillary asked the man.

“Of course. Is there anything else you need, Ma’am?”

Hillary shook her head. “No. I’m all good. Thanks.”

The man nodded. “Alright. I’ll leave you two to yourselves.”

“Thanks, Sir,” said Huma.

“Thanks again,” added Hillary.

Hillary looked for her phone on her bed and checked for the time. It was 2 AM ET. They were not due to be in DC for another seven hours, and Hillary dreaded the long flight ahead, especially with the newly applied cast on her hand.

Suddenly, Huma and Hillary were jolted by another strong lurch. This time, Hillary managed to hang on to the bed, and Huma maintained her grip on a nearby post.

“God, what is this?” Huma whined.

“You and I are both left in the dark, Huma. I think we need to speak with the pilot now.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to them,” volunteered Huma.

As if the cockpit heard them, the intercom buzzed to life, the pilot’s voice not easing the fears that were brewing inside them.

“Madam Secretary, this is Captain Lance DeSantos,” said the voice.

“Hi, Captain. What’s happening?”

The captain hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

“Ma’am, we’re having technical problems. We lost contact with the ground control. We have no choice but to land in Strotenberg.”

Hillary and Huma simply looked at each other, gulping and the color draining from their faces.

**_Bill Clinton’s Private Residence, City of Aldenkirk, June 16, 2009_ **

Bill was woken up by a buzzer in his door, his head pounding. When he opened the door, John Podesta was wide awake, his face telling him that something urgent was at hand.

“What is it?” asked Bill, still trying to focus.

“Sir, we have detected Hillary Rodham’s plane flying through the Atlantic,” John said, “the flight path seemed erratic, but we have assessed with high confidence that it will land in Strotenberg.”

The news jolted Bill wide awake. “Why are they landing in Strotenberg?”

“We think it’s because of technical problems in the plane,” responded John.

Urgently, Bill pulled his robe on and went out of this residence, his senses in maximum overdrive.

“John, write a draft order suspending the Patriot Act on Hillary Rodham,” Bill commanded sternly.

“Sir…” John tried to object, jostling to follow his superior. 

“For forty-eight hours or until I extend the suspension. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I somehow wrote this over the weekend while I brought home my work. LOL. Anyway, this is where the story kicks off with all the drama and stuff. 
> 
> And another flashback chapter is coming up!


	7. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I have no patience on this story.

_**Inside Boeing C-32, Province of Strotenberg, Rodinia, June 16, 2009** _

No one inside the Boeing C-32 dared to come out of the landed aircraft as the flight crew frantically tried to make contact with...practically anyone. Any civilian or military ground control that could hear their distress signal. Obviously, the United States had already that the airplane carrying the Secretary of State had gone missing and search operations were certainly underway. But still, the crew couldn't just sit there and wait for help to arrive, especially when Rodinian military forces were certain to arrive in minutes and raid the aircraft. 

The inside of the Secretary's suite was as intense as the cockpit. Hillary, Jim, Huma and Carl, the head of the diplomatic security unit traveling with them, were pacing back and forth, deciding for the best course of action. 

"The Rodinians are certain to arrest you for landing at a forbidden site. They'll shoot me the moment I come out of this plane." Hillary said. 

"They wouldn't dare," Huma replied. 

"Oh yes they will," Hillary said flatly. "They'd love to get their hands on me. Highest profile person to be executed under the Patriot Act."

"Patriot Act?" asked Jim. "You mean..."

"Yep. Anyone who defects from Rodinia is considered a traitor and they will be punished via firing squad," Hillary explained. "The guy who will shoot me will certainly be promoted."

"Then we shouldn't leave this plane," Jim said. 

"You think the Rodinians won't kick the door and get us from the inside? Please, Jim. I taught you better than that," Hillary scoffed. 

"We better leave before the Rodinians find us," Huma suggested. 

Carl finally intervened, shaking his head. "We have nowhere to go from here. Even if Secretary Rodham knows the way around this province, this place is heavily militarized. We can't go anywhere undetected."

"What if we inflate the rafts and row into the sea?" Jim suggested. 

Hillary and Carl simply blinked. 

"That's insane, Jim. We can't do that!" Hillary exclaimed. 

"I would have to agree with Madam Secretary on this. We don't know how we can afford to survive in the seas," seconded Carl. 

"Just hear me out," begged Jim, "even if we don't survive, at least we could avoid escalation of the crisis with Rodinia. If we'll all gonna die, hell, then I don't want our families or anytone else to do either."

Hillary, Huma and Carl simply looked at each other, struck by Carl's idea. 

"He makes a lot of sense actually, given our chances of survival are slim," conceded Huma, fearing for her life but worried about her country too. 

The three aides turned to Hillary for her final decision.

Hillary sighed. "Alright. We'll go with Jim's. If I were to die, then let me die for the United States."

Carl smiled sadly. "Well said, Ma'am. I'll inform the staff and the travelling press corps that you'll be speaking to them. 

"Thanks, Carl."

With Carl gone, the three of them began to work on their next step. 

"Destroy all documents before the Rodinians get hold of them. Now," Hillay ordered with immense urgency. 

Huma and Jim nodded and immediately left her suite. 

Just before Hillary followed them, she took her Blackberry and turned on the data roaming option on her phone:

> _Chels,_
> 
> _I don't know if I'll still see you after this, but I want you to know that I love you very much. No mother is prouder of her daughter than I am. Every day, I thank God that He gave me a wonderful girl._
> 
> _Don't worry about me, Sweetie. I am coming home._

Hillary read the email three times before hitting "Send", kissing the screen of her phone as she did so. Hillary pondered on the last sentence of her email, hoping that Chelsea would understand. 

Indeed, she was coming home. 

To Rodinia. 

* * *

The State Department staff on board the Boeing C-32 breathed a little when they managed to destroy all the sensitive documents inside the plane. The press corps traveling with them looked visibly distressed about this detour. They were frantically sending messages to their home offices in DC and NY. Some were crying and some were already speaking with their next of kin through their phones. Others still, like the dutiful journalists that they were, were memorializing this incident in their laptops before sending it to their colleagues back in the US. 

Hillary remained the face of calm and grace in these times of adversity. She never revealed any hint of fear or panic in front of the people who were depending on her right at that moment. It was easy to forget that her life was the one in most in danger, as the Rodinians were certain to shoot her the moment they spotted her shadow. In spite of this, Hillary put the safety of the people under her and the welfare of the US first. 

Once the staffers threw the ashes of the burned documents away, Hillary and the diplomatic security unit began to prepare for evacuation. 

"Alright, no time to waste," Hillary commanded assertively. "Everyone, cooperate with the members of diplomatic security. Do not resist. Follow their instructions. Am I clear?"

The 80 passengers of the US Boeing C-32 all began to work. Everyone did as they were told by the diplomatic security. Rafts were inflated and everyone wore their life vests. Hillary wore hers too, but unbeknownst to everybody, she had worn a bulletproof vest inside her blouse. 

Per protocol, Hillary should have been riding the first raft out of the beach, but she insisted that the journalist with children be boarded first. 

"Hillary, you need yo go first," urged Jim..

"Let them go home to their kids. I, on the other hand, am not afraid of Bill Clinton," Hillary said as she looked on to the first set of rafts that were set afloat. "Or any of his threats."

"Easy for you to say. He's married to you," Huma said in jest. 

Hillary bit her lip as she gulped, bowing her head to hide the mist that was threatening to cloud her vision, the first time she allowed herself to show any emotion. "I am not his wife anymore, although our still valid marriage contract says otherwise."

"Hey," Jim rubbed Hillary's back to comfort her. "It's okay.  You still have Neil."

Hillary"s head remained bent. "I know, I know. But I was still devastated."

"Are you talking about the cable last year?" asked Huma. 

Hillary nodded silently, sniffiing only once. 

Huma felt a little guilty for bringing up Hillary's marriage. "I'm sorry, Hill. I shouldn't have said it."

Hillay looked up and wiped the small drops of tears from her eyes. "It"s alright. It wasn't your fault."

Jim squeezed his boss's shoulders. "Shitty marriage or not, I still think Hillary is a great person, and a fantastic Mom. I mean, look at Chelsea!"

"He's right, Hillary. Chelsea is a living testament of how great you are as a person," agreed Huma.

Touched by her aides' affirmations, Hillary pulled Jim and Huma into a group hug. 

"I don't know if I'm still gonna be your boss, but I hope you'll get promoted," Hillary quipped. 

"Funny you won't say that on days that we aren't dying," Jim chuckled, albeit nervously. 

"I'm sorry, but I appreciate your service and your dedication, really. And your friendship too."

"Same, Hillary," said Huma. 

"Amen!" added Jim. 

The three enjoyed their probably last moments of peace before the inevitable chaos that was about to befall on them. As if on cue, they heard the distant sounds of rusting trees and trucks rumbling in the jungle. The sounds became louder and louder, a sure sign that whoever they were, they were getting closer and closer to them. 

Carl, who was still on the beach shore, signalled to the people in the rafts to row faster and faster away, and they did until they were out of sight. Now, the only ones left were all State Department staff. 

"Get on the boat now, all of you," Hillary commanded her staff. 

The State Department staff had barely gotten into the raft when six military jeeps, all filled with heavily armed men, followed by an empty military truck, suddenly appeared from nowhere and surrounded Hillary and her staff. Carl and the rest of the diplomatic security unit formed a human barricade in front of the State employees, cocking their rifles towards the Rodinian army. Carl and his men were clearly outnumbered, but they stood their ground. It was like the Spartans against the Persians in the Battle of Thermopolis. It was certainly an overkill on the part of the Rodinians, but orders were orders. 

"Put down your arms!" yelled a Rodinian commander as he pointed his rifle towards the Americans. "You are not allowed in this territory! You are violating Rodinian jurisrdiction!"

“We mean no harm!” Hillary screamed from behind the barricade. She raised her uninjured arms as if to surrender and emerged to face the soldiers. “We were having problems with our plane and we were forced to land in here.”

The soldiers nudged their rifles to aim at her directly. 

The ground commander replied, “You came here to violate our sovereignty on purpose!”

Hillary, still with her arm up in the air, responded calmly. “I, as a former citizen of Rodinia and now the Secretary of State of the United States of America, have nothing to gain by violating your territorial rights. We are fighting for our survival when we chose to land here. I, your humble servant, request that you let us pass in your country unharmed and we will do no ill actions to yours. Wasn’t it the Samaritan, a person rejected by his society, who helped the dying traveler in the desert, when the priest and the Levite had already abandoned him?”

Hillary’s impassioned plea certainly touched the hearts of the armed soldiers, but none of them had the will to violate their commanders’ orders: to kill everyone in the plane. Everyone was waiting for the ground commander’s order to shoot, but he too was caught speechless by Hillary’s plea. 

She, on the other hand, stood tall amongst their captors. Her eyes like that of a hawk, she stared each of the Rodinians, daring every single one of them to pull the trigger. 

She wasn’t afraid to die. 

Not anymore. 

Her courage and resilience cowered the ground commander, whose voice was shaking when he screamed, “FIRE!”

Every one cocked their guns and pointed at the Americans. Hillary took a deep breath and closed her eyes, thinking of her daughter at the very last moment before the excruciating pain that she was expecting came. 

But it never came. She had found it a little odd that she was allowed to live a little longer so she continued praying for Chelsea. Her thoughts were only broken when she heard the sound of screeching brakes and the screams of a man yelling “HOLD YOUR FIRE!” HOLD YOUR FIRE! BY ORDER OF THE SUPREME LEADER!”

When Hillary heard the  word “Supreme Leader”, she immediately popped her eyes open. She was caught unaware that Bill Clinton had a personal stake in her arrest and execution. Of course he had. Her thoughts about dying had made her forget about the international tension that they were caught into. And with their accidental landing, she was sure that they had made problems worse for all of them. But an accident was an accident. Nobody wanted it to happen, and certainly not her. 

The gears of her mind whirred to life as she watched the commander from the seventh military jeep that had just arrived scream at the men who were about to shoot them. Apparently, Bill suspended the Patriot Act for her.  Curious. She turned around and looked and Jim and Huma, who were thinking of the same thing. She eyed them, telling them to keep their guard up for Bill had certainly something in his sleeve. When the commander finished dictating the orders from Aldenkirk, the armed men put down their guns and instead arrested the Americans, putting handcuffs on each of them. Huma, Jim and the rest of them were forced into the large military truck, while Hillary was blindfolded. Hillary heard the others scream her name. 

“Where are you taking me?” Hillary asked her captor. 

Her captor didn’t answer.

Hillary wasn’t surprised, just disappointed. She expected nothing less from them. 

But with the Patriot Act suspended for her, Hillary was certain of one thing. 

She was going to see Bill Clinton. 

**_Government Complex, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 16, 2009_ **

From his office, Bill closely watched the helicopter that was landing in the plaza square, his eyes trying to see the inside of the aircraft. His men were already at the square, surrounding the plane, waiting for its arrival. Bill felt an immense amount of satisfaction. This must have been how George W. Bush felt when Saddam Hussein fell. There was no better feeling in the world than seeing your worst enemies fall. 

Bill took a deep breath. It was probably time for him to greet his unexpected visitor.  To his annoyance, his heart kept pounding ever since John Podesta woke him up in the wee hours. He was uncharacteristically anxious about meeting her, and he blamed his decades long craving for her body that he could never expel no matter how hard he tried to force it out of him. Given, they certainly had immense sexual attractions towards each other when they were young, and certainly more so when she got pregnant. But decades of no contact should have done the trick, but no. He knew it was a mistake when he chose to personally monitor her over the years. 

Even with age, he had certainly found her sexually appealing, despite their animosity towards each other.  

Bill convinced himself that temporarily lifting the Patriot Act on Hillary would give him the upper hand. Yes. He was planning something for her when he made that decision. He had always known that Hillary was more useful to him alive than dead. Or so he thought. 

He was going to make her an offer that she couldn’t refuse, and he prayed that he won’t give her the upper hand just because his cock jumped the moment his eyes landed on her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just writing and writing. I am so excited with this story now and I hope you are too! The next chapters are intense. Think of Bill and Hillary each carrying blowtorches. ^_^
> 
> P.S. if you are wondering what [diplomatic] cable Hillary was referring to in this chapter, it will come up in a future chapter. Whether it's flashback or a regular chapter, I am still yet to decide :)


	8. Crossfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next installment!

**_Government Complex Plaza, City of Aldenkirk, June 16, 2009_ **

Hillary felt the helicopter land on solid ground, her eyes still blindfolded after more than two hours of flight. After she was arrested in Strotenberg, she was forced to ride a helicopter to somewhere, and Hillary would bet her life that somewhere was Aldenkirk. There was no doubt about it. If her husband was personally involved in her arrest, then there was no way that he would not draw out a concession from her before he disposed her.

Hillary heard the blades of the helicopter slowly die down. Still in her blindfolds, she was slowly guided out of the aircraft. Once her feet were on the ground, she felt the blindfold being removed from her eyes.

Once the blindfold was gone, she slowly opened her eyes for the first time in hours, her vision still blurry from the prolonged darkness. Her nearsightedness didn't help either. She had almost lost her balance that she grabbed the shirt of her escort, who fortunately caught her from her fall.

Hillary rubbed her eyes again in hopes that her clear vision would finally be back. 

She blinked again. Finally, Her vision was restored. She looked down on her injured arm. She saw them clear as day. She felt a huge rush of relief.

Finally, she looked up, and from afar, she didn't miss those piercing blue eyes that enamored her more than thirty years ago.

* * *

Bill could only gulp when he saw Hillary step down from the helicopter as he watched her from the balcony overlooking the entire plaza. He was thankful that he was alone in the balcony, otherwise somebody could have already noticed the large beads of sweat on his forehead, and the faint outline in his pants. He knew he had a weakness for her, but never in a million years did he imagine that he would be turned on so much at the sight of Hillary wearing a blindfold. So many dirty thoughts ran through his mind during those fleeting moments where he saw her under the mercy of her escort. Bill wasn't a man who was quite experimental with sex, but at that moment, he would have liked to do a myriad of new things with her, starting with that blindfold.

Once Hillary was stripped of her blindfold, Bill instinctively moved forward when he saw her almost fall. Only then did he notice that she was wearing a sling. God, he was still very much into her. Bill cursed himself for falling on her trap, a trap that was only meant for him. His eyes followed her every step, fearful that he would miss something if he blinked. 

And when Hillary's eyes met his, he felt warmth rise up in his cheeks, her gaze bringing back the color of his black and white existence.

* * *

Hillary found it quite odd that she wasn't being led into a detention facility, but rather, to a government building, one of many that was standing in the government complex. She had not been in Aldenkirk for over thirty years, and she barely recognized any of these buildings that were erected in the complex. Back then, the buildings were simply six floors at most. But now, Hillary wagered that they were at least twelve.

She was led towards the front entrance of a building, similar to that of Foggy Bottom. But unlike Foggy Bottom, the building wasn't bustling and full of people. It was empty, save for her and her escorts. It seemed to Hillary that Bill suspended work on these buildings so that nobody could see her.

Slowly, the interior of the building began to register in Hillary's memory. Yes. While the interior of the building was modern, it certainly retained its old foundations, and it was that reminded her that she was once here more than thirty years ago.

Specifically, October 11, 1975.

Hillary looked at the plates on top of each door. She was right. This was a courthouse, the very same one where she and Bill got married. Her eyes wandered around and read the plates above each door. Courtroom 1A...Courtroom 1B....Courtroom 1C...until...

Courtroom 1J

Hillary frowned. There was no doubt Bill was playing mind tricks on her.

How dare he use the place she held most sacred against her.

The double doors of Courtroom 1J opened, and inside, a panel of five military judges were was already sitting on the high bench. The right side of the court was filled with people, mostly military men, and the left side, the side of the defendant, was empty.  And soon as the doors swung open, the people turned around and glared at her. The feeling was oddly familiar, except that it was quite different from what she remembered.

At the end of the aisle stood the man she would never mistake for anyone else. His white hair was a dead giveaway, but his frame, his body that she had memorized like her own name, was undeniable.

For a split second, Hillary expected  Bill to turn around and gaze at her lovingly as he waited for her.

But he never did.

She felt like a bride once again, only that she resented walking down the aisle.

Slowly, she marched down that dreaded aisle. Thirty-three years ago, she was all smiles when she walked down this narrow path. Now, she was in the verge of tears, not because she was in despair for her life, but because she and Bill had both strayed from the vows the has exchanged in that very same room.

Hillary's treacherous heart urged her eyes to wander towards Bill's hands.

His wedding band was gone.

Hillary quickly darted her eyes away, hoping that she didn't get caught. Thankfully, she was able to look away and sit on the right side, all alone, before Bill turned around and started the proceedings.

"As the Supreme Leader of Rodinia and a duly authorized prosecutor, I would like to request our duly honorable judges that we proceed with the trial of Hillary Rodham," Bill said in his booming voice.

The judges acknowledged Bill's request, and called the session to order.

"The trial of Hillary Rodham is now in session," said the judge in the middle, the chief judge, said.

"The prosecution stands ready, Your Honors," Bill replied, his back still on Hillary.

Seeing that there was no one beside her, Hillary figured out that she would have to mount her own defense.

She stood up, ignoring the painful fact that Bill refused to look at her even though she was sure he was desiring her when he looked at her from the balcony earlier.

"I, Hillary Rodham, the defendant, stands before the court." Hillary refused to use the word "honorable" to describe this court, because it was anything but.

"As per the law, you have the right to be defended by a lawyer. Would you like the State to appoint a lawyer?" asked the chief judge.

Hillary shook her head. "I respectfully decline, Your Honors. I am a certified attorney, with license number 326745."

For the first time, Bill turned around and revealed his face just to interrupt her.

"May I remind the defendant that her license had been revoked when she was convicted of treason ten years ago in violation of the Patriot Act?" Bill asked mockingly.

The color of her face was suddenly drained, her hands clenched into a tight ball, shaking with rage. So, this wasn't a trial, but rather, a re-trial. She had always thought that Bill unilaterally decided that she was guilty of committing treason. Now she knew that she was allowed a trial, albeit an unfair one, and she was being put on trial again so that she could beg for her life and Bill could extract some concessions from her.

Hillary found herself awed by Bill's brilliance, but she still detested him.

She refused to let Bill get under her skin, but she couldn't allow herself not to wipe that smile off his face. "May I remind the prosecutor that I was not informed of such proceedings because apparently, I was tried in absentia and I was not informed that such proceedings had ever taken place, a practice that is not permitted in civilized countries."

Bill felt like it was a shot across the bow against him and his leadership, demeaning his and Rodinia's standing amongst the nations. "May I remind the defendant is already deemed guilty of treason. Comments like this do not help the current case at hand."

"The prosecution may be prudent to remember that I am no longer a citizen of Rodinia, thus making this trial pointless," Hillary shot back, "one cannot be accused of treason by a country she does not belong to."

"The crimes in question have occurred when the defendant was still a citizen of Rodinia," Bill responded a little too forcefully.

The two argued back and forth, throwing each other's argument expertly. The eyes one every one inside the court flew back and forth between them, as if they were watching a tennis match. It was amazing to watch, really. Two attorneys with superior intellect throwing the best that they got at each other. The fact that they were once husband and wife (or actually, still husband and wife) added a personal touch to this scene.

It was when the two were discussing about Rodinian territorial rights that the chief judge had to intervene be because the topic was straying too far from the issue at hand.

The judge cleared his throat. "While the show of intellect had been fascinating, we are getting off topic. Ms. Rodham, how will you be defending yourself? Will you request the State to appoint you an attorney?

Hillary shook her head. "No, Your Honor. I shall be defending myself."

"But, you aren't a licensed attorney anymore," said the chief judge.

"I am well aware of that," Hillary said, "however, I do not wish to invoke my right to an attorney. After all, I could have had an attorney in myself if I wasn't subject to a kangaroo trial by a kangaroo court ten years ago."

Bill chuckled. "It seems that Ms. Rodham is giving herself horrible legal advice."

"The prosecution should be concerned less about my defense but rather on establishing a case against me, don't you think, Your Honors?" she chided.

For the first time, Bill's grin turned into a nasty scowl, and the satisfaction that she had finally gotten under his skin thrilled her.

* * *

Hillary got off the stand, physically and emotionally exhausted after Bill's long interrogation of her. He hadn't lost his expert debating and influencing skills, that much was clear to her. But even with his firestorm of emotional and psychological attacks, she thought she had managed to stand her ground. After all, Bill wasn't only the expert lawyer in the room, and only the two of them knew that the only person who ever managed to beat Bill in a debate was her, so it was imperative of Bill to tire her out first before she could deliver her defense.

"The defense may now proceed with the cross-examination," said the judge.

What a farce this court was. With no time for her to prepare, how could she call for a witness? She couldn't cross examine herself. That was just plain silly.

She scanned around the room for familiar faces to vouch for her. No one. Not one of them could knew of her history and could accurately speak on her behalf. Her heart fell into despair, but she didn't let anyone see that.

Wait...Hillary's face suddenly lit up as her brain just hatched an idea. There was someone who could speak on her behalf.

And it just might work.

Boosted by a her newly-found confidence, Hillary approached the judges to make a motion.

"Your Honors, I would like to call a witness. Someone who is in the unique position to vouch for my innocence, and validate the testimony that I just gave. 

Bill, who was sitting in the prosecution bench, looked like he had eaten a rotten fruit.

The judges looked struck.

"Who is it?" asked the chief judge asked.

Hillary turned around and gazed at Bill, who was already scowling at her. She slowly approached him until she was just a step away from him.

"I'd like to call my dear husband, William Jefferson Clinton to the stand," she said in a falsely sweet voice.

The audience in the room gasped at his dramatic development. Nobody in Rodinia could even think of doing what Hillary just did to Bill. It was a totally unprecedented move by anyone: to call the sitting Supreme Leader as a witness. The audience sat still, not breathing, as they looked at Bill, waiting for his move.

Hillary waited for Bill to publicly reject her. She savored each second seeing him conflicted and unsure. They both knew he couldn't reject her request, as she would certainly go on suicide mission and kill his chances of ever getting concessions from her. Whether Bill liked it or not, it was advantageous for him that Hillary remained Secretary of State.

Bill, finally relenting to her pressure, stood up and proceeded to the witness stand.

It was Hillary's most significant victory over Bill so far.

As soon as Bill was on the stand, Hillary wasted no time cross-examining him.

"So, Mr. Clinton," she began, her exhaustion gone after she scored her victory against her husband, "Let me begin: Are you not privy to my plans to leave this country thirty years ago?"

Bill forced himself to answer. "I am."

She nodded. "And so, you are well aware of who hatched my plan to leave the county, aren't you?"

Bill looked away. "I am."

Hillary walked back and forth in front of him, like a lioness circling her prey. "If you please, reveal to everyone in this court who hatched my plan to get out of the country, who orchesrated and put the complex plan in motion."

Bill's face was red with rage, his fists so tightly clenched that his nails tore the skin of his palms. Along with his rage were tears, tears of regret, shame and guilt.

Hillary slammed on the witness stand, his silence drawing out her patience. "TELL US! WHO ORCHESTRATED THAT PLAN?"

Bill was shaking inside the witness stand, this torture from his wife becoming unbearable despite his acquired resistance to psychological manipulation. This was her way of flipping the tables around. She was an excellent at spotting other people's weaknesses as he was, and right now, she was sashaying her hips deliciously on purpose to tempt him, to weaken his resolve. When she knew she had him all wrapped up on her finger, she piled on more pressure so he would break. 

She was his very own black widow.

Bill willed himself to resist her, no matter how futile his efforts were.  

"I-I..." he stammered.

Hillary slammed the desk again. "MR. CLINTON! I REPEAT MY QUESTION: WHO HATCHED THE PLAN TO-"

"I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW!" Bill waved his hands in the air just so she would stop talking, stop her from confronting him with the truth.

"SAY IT TO THE COURT!" Her voice was thunderous.

"I-I--" Bill was shaking to the core.

"MR. CLINTON!"

"I-I--"

"SAY IT!"

Bill abruptly stood up and pounded his large hands on the witness stand, his face all drenched with sweat and his lungs gasping for air.

"I REFUSE TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION! I INVOKE MY PRIVILEGE TO REMAIN SILENT!"

Bill stormed out of the witness stand and out of the courtroom, slamming the door ever so forcefully. Everybody was left stunned, but none more so than Hillary, who never expected her husband to break like that.

"Order! Order!" The chief judge tried to silence the commotion from the audience.

Deep within her shock, Hillary never felt more betrayed. She had her fair share of pain and agony, but nothing hurt more than having her husband forsake her.

The tears were present again. This time, she let it fall as the judges ordered her to be put away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never initially planned to have this courtroom drama but then I suddenly thought I could use this as a way for Bill to pressure Hillary. And LOL I've always wanted to write a courtroom drama. 
> 
> Next update's on Sunday. And you may have to wait a wee bit longer for the smut.


	9. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm dropping this early because I have a movie date with my friend tomorrow. ^_^

_**Bill Clinton's Private Residence, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 16, 2009**_  
  
Bill felt absolute filth as he slammed the door open and slumped on his couch, burying his head in his hands. He couldn't believe he let her break him like that. What's worse was that he was utterly defeated in front of his men. He hated how she could manipulate him like that, how she could effectively destroy him with her powerful gaze and her glorious hips. She beat him in his own game: the game of wills, the battle of wits.  
  
But the elephant in the room was his apparent betrayal of Hillary. Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't a part of his plan. He was really going to let her live because she was useful to him; he could manipulate her into doing her bidding. But what happened back there in the courtroom was the exact opposite of what he had expected. She overpowered him. She forced him to talk, and by doing so, she forced him to choose between her and his motherland.  
  
She led him to her trap.  
  
It was entirely her fault.  
  
That was the mantra he kept repeating to himself over and over to ease him of his guilt but to no avail. They both knew what happened. They both knew who gave her the idea to leave Rodinia. Convinced her even. She wasn't a willing participant at first, but much coaxing on his part finally changed her mind.  
  
He felt like a weakling. A stupid, puny weakling.  
  
A loser. A big fucking loser.  
  
He had never felt so worthless.  
  
_**Maximum Security Detention Cell, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 17, 2009**_  
  
Hillary, blindfolded and tied up to a chair, drifted between consciousness and sleep. It was the third time she had waken up that night. This time, it was because of a nightmare. She had dreamed that she was shopping in New York with Chelsea. As they were looking at shops in Manhattan, she saw a bright light dance across the sky. The bright light eventually reached the Empire State Building and a large explosion swallowed everything into the flames and smoke. Hillary ducked and covered Chelsea with her body, protecting her daughter from the impact of the explosion. Miraculously, Hillary survived, but to her horror and grief, Chelsea didn't. She was sobbing and mourning her daughter's body, when she heard footsteps from behind. Wiping her tears, she saw Bill towering over her, his eyes red rather than his usual bright blue. He had a sinister look that somehow managed to burn her soul.  
  
"Hillary," he said, "it's your fault our daughter died."  
  
"No!" Hillary was sobbing. "You killed her! You bombed New York!"  
  
"No, you killed her," Bill replied, "you selfish bitch. Thinking only of your self and no other."  
  
"That's not true!" Hillary sobbed.  
  
"If yoh really loved our daughter, you should have stayed in Rodinia."  
  
"You told me to leave!" Hillary screamed.  
  
"You should have returned, and now our daughter paid the price of your selfishness."  
  
"No!" Hillary still wept at the dead Chelsea.  
  
"You killed our daughter."  
  
"No! No! No!" Hillary resisted Bill's manipulation. "I loved our daughter very much! Everything I did, it was for her!"  
  
"Then you probably wouldn't mind dying for her?"  
  
"What?" Hillary was confused what Bill meant. When she turned around, she saw Bill pointing a gun at her. A flash of blinding light and a loud bang told her that Bill had fired the gun, and a searing pain in her chest jolted her awake.   
  
Hillary opened her eyes, and all she could see was total darkness, thanks to her blindfold. She had to pinch herself just so she could ascertain that she was awake. The pain of her pinch told her she was. Her head began to pound from the complete exhaustion and her uncomfortable position.   
  
She sighed. Her lack of access to a clock had been very much annoying. She was itching to find out the time. She was eager to know if she would be getting out of her cell already. According to her jailers, she would be due for sentencing the next day by 9AM.   
  
But based on the silence of her surroundings, she was guessing that it was still dark. She could hear the crickets chirp outside, and the cool breeze from the small window kissed the parts of her skin that were left exposed by the prison uniform she was forced to wear. Hillary found the darkness of the night sky beautiful, because it gave chance for the stars to shine. But she resented the total darkness, because it squashes every bit of hope that one day, the light would shine again.   
  
Hillary tried to shift in her seat so that she could relieve herself from the discomfort of sitting in the same position for hour. The feet of her chair scraped against the cement floor. As she fixed her position, Hillary could have sworn that she heard the soft tap-tapping of a pair of feet nearby.   
  
Somebody was coming, that much she was certain of.  
  
As she tried to locate the source of the sound, the footsteps grew louder in time. Even though she was blindfolded, her ears were sharp as ever. She could tell that there was only one pair of footsteps going to her direction. For the first time since she stepped her foot inside Rodinia, her heart raced. She might be going towards her end. After all, what was stopping Bill from killing her in the middle of the night?   
  
Hillary prayed that the footsteps would go away, buy instead, it only got stronger, and her worst fears were confirmed when she heard the door creak open. She gulped, her heart racing faster. Large beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead as she prepared herself for the worst.   
  
Suddenly, a voice familiar to her caught her attention.   
  
"Aren't you glad to see me?" she heard the familiar raspy voice of her husband. His finger was tracing the outline of her jaw. She was appalled that he even had the fucking nerve to show his face to her, let alone touch her like that as if he owned her. She waa her own person. She didn't belong to anybody, and certainly not him.   
  
In the midst of her indignation, she felt her fury slowly melt and turn to desire. The way his fingers touched her jaw made her stomach flip upside down.   
  
And his most delicate touch left her moist.  
  
"You have a nerve to show your face to me," Hillary spit on Bill. "You coward."  
  
The last insult stung Bill to the core, but he wasn't going to let her slip without a punishment.   
  
"You accuse me of cowardice when I have you under my mercy," he said.   
  
"That's false bravery, my dear husband. And if you're so brave as you think you are, take my blindfold off and remove me from this chair. As you can see, my left arm is injured. I can't do anything."  
  
"No, I don't feel like it," he said, "besides, it's much more fun this way."  
  
"Pathetic," she spat, "just say you can't handle an even fight, just as you can't handle me earlier."  
  
Bill, in rage, gripped her shoulders tightly. "I can handle you alright, and I'm going to show it to you!"  
  
Hillary knew that tone in his voice. He wasn't just referring to getting back at her, but entirely something else.  
  
And Hillary wasn't sure she should stop him from doing so, not that she could do anything given their positions.  
  
"Now, I want you to listen," Bill knelt in front of her so that their heads were on the same level, their breaths fanning their faces. He rested his hands on her knees, feeling them weaken. "Your verdict will be handed down tomorrow. I'm going to give you an option."  
  
"Over my dead body," she spat.  
  
Bill ignored her. "I'm going to petition for your acquittal. One one condition."  
  
"Save your breath."  
  
Bill fought the urge to slap her. He had already done so much damage, and the last thing he needed was to make her walk away.   
  
"I don't want to make things hard for you. Don't make it so for yourself."  
  
Hillary scoffed. "Oh really? Am I supposed to kneel and say thank you?"  
  
"Shut up!" Bill couldn't take her defiance much longer, and his thundering voice sent a chill down her spine, a first for her.  
  
"Now," Bill calmed himself a bit, "You can walk away from here unharmed, along with your colleagues. Don't worry, they're not harmed. Yet."  
  
Hillary didn't want him to let him know that she was tempted to hear what he had to offer, but her gulp was a telltale sign that she was.   
  
"If I were to set you all free, then you must go back to the United States and remove the sanctions on Rodinia and promise not to retaliate over this."  
  
"That's bullshit, Bill," Hillary refused. "I don't have power to do that. My president does. And besides, there's no way I'd let that happen."  
  
"You're speaking now. But I will give you reprieve," he said, "I am giving you time. You have eight hours to think about it."  
  
"My answer, won't change, Bill," said Hillary, defiant more than ever. "As I've told my staff, I'm ready to die in here. Shoot me for all I care."  
  
Bill screamed in frustration, backing off from her. She was making things fucking difficult for them both. She was forcing him to show his hand. He had greatly underestimated her.   
  
"Fuck, Hillary. I'm trying to make things easier for both of us, but you are always like that. You can be stubborn when you want to," he said, rubbing his forehead.   
  
Those last words struck Hillary. It was a remarkable moment of candor from Bill. For the first time, she saw Billy, the husband she had always known. Yes, Hillary acknowledged that the was a hardass bitch, but that expression of frustration from Bill reminded her of every single time she failed as his wife, that their marriage wasn't as rosy as she chose to remember. There were times that they screamed at the top of their lungs until the neighbors had to call the police. Sometimes, she would throw things at him and she was always the recipient his temper.  
  
And right now, she wanted to throw her chair at him. That was how mad she was.   
  
And this...everything from her trial to his offer...this was like an ordinary day in their marriage. Any day with them being in the same room would surely end up with a fight.  
  
And what did they usually do after a nasty fight?   
  
Fuck. Fuck until they couldn't see straight.   
  
And the memories of them doing so further increased the moisture that pooled in her center. The fact that they were both angry only added to her excitement.  
  
This day wasn't different as any other, was it? They fought. So what now?  
  
They fuck.   
  
Hillary let Bill pace around and calm down, while she sat in her chair, still bound and blinfolded, testing the waters. Once she thought he had calmed down a bit, she tried leaning her head in a delicious angle so that her neck was exposed to him, tacitly inviting him to ravish her. She tried to shift in her seat, feeling the wetness that accumulated in her underwear. She couldn't stop her memories of Bill, lifting his shirt off and ravishing her wherever they were. In the house. In the car. In his desk. In their neighbor's broom closet. Even in his mother's bedroom.   
  
And now, in prison.   
  
This was so insane.  
  
And incredibly hot.   
  
Finally, Bill turned around and saw Hillary in a very enticing position. His eyes grew wide. She looked so delicious, so tempting.   
  
She was all his.  
  
Hillary didn't explicitly invite him, but body was screaming for him. She was proverbially curling her finger towards her with her labored breathing and soft moans. Despite the ropes around her body, her chest moved up and down in sync with her breathing.   
  
It's as if Bill's fantasy came into life.   
  
He walked slowly to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. No. It was real. She was real. A very angry Hillary, bound and blindfolded, kept squirming in her seat so seductively. He had to calm himself and his raging cock. For once, he had to be rational, unlike the emotional mess that he was earlier. What if this was a ploy for her to escape? Or to give him the upper hand in their negotiations?   
  
_She can't escape if I don't untie her,_ he thought. _Besides, it's much more fun that way._  
  
As for losing his leverage, what could she possibly do to him? Expose him to the world for having consensual sex with his wife? That was just plain silly.   
  
Having convinced himself that he has nothing to lose, he slowly approached her, memorizing this erotic sight so that he could sustain himself in future lonely nights. He licked his lips, convinced that he had never been thia turned on.   
  
He knelt again in front of her and wrapped himself around her waist. He felt her shiver in desire, and this was her tacit approval of what he was about to do next.  
  
He took a deep breath, preparing to plunge into her ocean of desire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very tricky chapter to write. I wasn't satisfied with the first draft so I had to rewrite this all over. Whew. 
> 
> You all know where the next chapter is probably headed. My tentative update will be on Wednesday because I need to rewrite that chapter too. I hope I can finish this fic before May when I'll be gone for a month (and see Hillary!)
> 
> And thank you thank you for the lovely comments! You sure know how to pressure this girl. LOL!


	10. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My upload plans keep getting messed up LOL

**_Maximum Security Detention Cell, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 17, 2009_ **

Bill breathed heavily as he removed the ropes that bound Hillary's feet and pulled her pants off, along with her already drenched panties. The smell of arousal quickly filled his nostrils, and he became quickly addicted to it.

"Billy,” she gasped, "please..." "I’m here, Baby." He spread her legs open for him. Her entrance, surrounded by a small patch of hair, was a thing of beauty. He had never seen anything so exquisite. He pinched himself to make sure if this was all real. Indeed, it was. He licked his tongue all over his lips before he lunged forward and gave her a long, wet lick, his tongue traveling over the length of her slit. She quivered at the contact, and her whimpers of desperation sent all jolts to his crotch. 

"Bill...” she moaned. 

He opened her legs still. This time, he went for her swollen clit. He couldn’t believe how wet she was. Her engorged flesh was all his to feast on. He flicked and sucked on her clit, and every movement of his was matched by her erotic moans and undulations of her delicious hips. Oh fuck. Bill forgot how weak she was for her hips, her curves that fit perfect against his hands, as if she was sculpted for him and him alone.

Hillary had been off of her blindfolds, but she might as well have worn one, because her eyes were tightly shut, savoring the softness and the flatness of Bill's tongue as it licked her clit, teasing her extremely sensitive nerve endings. She had been with other men since she left Rodinia, and each one was unique on their own. But Bill...he was a league of his own. Nobody ever touched her with much devotion other than Bill. It was true thirty years ago, and now more than ever. 

“Oh fuck...Bill...suck me...yes..." Hillary was thrashing and shivering, completely at the disposal of her husband and adversary.  He sucked her like there was no tomorrow.  Maybe there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

At least for them. Bill pushed his nagging feeling at the thought of Hillary possibly being executed in a few hours and focused on pleasuring her like she had never been pleasured before. She was moaning and gasping and begging for more, and Bill didn't have the heart to refuse her. With his tongue focused on her clit, his middle finger teased her slit, playing with her wet folds. He was rewarded with a moan of satisfaction, and he knew he was going in the right direction. When he thought she was ready, he gently pushed a finger, and he was met by her hips eagerly welcoming him.  "Oh, yes, yes, yes," Hillary moaned as she threw her head back.  "Fuck, Hilly..." He pumped his finger inside her as his tongue pleasured her clit.

Fuck. Hillary had never felt this good. She never felt this wanted.  She never felt this loved. "Oh Billy...that's it...fuck me with your delicious fingers...fuck!"

Hillary talking dirty to him did wonders to his cock, which was now straining to be freed. He was so eager to fuck her that he was grinding his hips against the air, even though the friction he was looking for never came. He sighed in frustration, wanting for some relief, but it didn't bother him much. Or at least, not as bothered for Hillary to cum in his mouth. 

"Fuck, Billy...I'm so close."

Bill could feel it too. Her wild bucks, her sopping slit, her increased moans...all telltale signs that she was going to cum soon.  He increased the pace of his flicks and his thrusts, and she kept up with his intensity. Her right hand, the uninjured one, pressed his head closer to her sex, coaxing him to pleasure her more.

“Billy...OH FUUUUUUUCK!"

With the last flick and thrust, the pressure that been building on Hillary's belly finally exploded, and waves and waves of her orgasm washed over her, her walls clamping on his fingers and her juices spilling on her face. He eagerly sucked her arousal, licking her clean with his tongue.  Hillary was gasping for air, her heart still racing a million miles per second. She felt like she ran marathon, except that she longed for more pleasure. 

Looking at her husband, she said, "I want to suck your fingers, Billy."

Bill's head shot up, his heart and his cock dancing at her request. He obliged. He pulled his fingers out of her entrance and let her taste her arousal. Her tongue swirled around his salty digits and sucked the entire length. His cock twitched, extremely jealous of the fingers that were the were being pleasured by her mouth.

"Oh yes, Hilly. Suck them. Suck my fingers," he coaxed.  She obediently followed her instructions. Nothing turned him on more than Hillary sucking his fingers with so much devotion, but this was getting a little ridiculous. He could think of other things she would be better off sucking.  Bill suddenly pulled his hand, and Hillary whimpered at the withdrawal. She swayed her head aimlessly,  frantic at the loss of contact from him. She need him close to her. His sudden withdrawal left a void the she was desperate to be filled with.

Slowly, he unzipped his pants and he felt a rush of relief when he did so. Bill pulled his pants and briefs down, and his cock sprung to life, ready to be pleasured. He moved closer so Hillary could have a feel of him, easing into her slowly, guiding her to his cock. She wasted no time inhaling his rock-hard member, caressing his full length with her lips and nose, occasionally planting kisses on his foreskin. Her actions were light and delicate, but Bill could tell that she wanted more.

“That's it, Hilly, suck me."

She obediently opened her mouth and moved closer to her, effectively fucking her mouth. She took him all the way in, squeezing her lips tightly for his pleasure. He let out a satisfied sigh to let her know she was doing exactly what he wanted to.  Slowly, she pulled back, licking his shaft along the way until she's barely kissing the tip. The slow agony drove Bill insane.  Bill, drowned in raw pleasure, keep pushing his stiff member into her warm and wet mouth, and she was only too happy to take him all in. Her constraints, the ropes that tied her body and the blindfold that covered her eyes, didn't stop her from taking him with her mouth. He would occasionally look down to take a good look on her, and nothing had ever turned him on like Hillary all tied up and blindfolded, sucking him into oblivion. Hillary leaned her head forward and flicked her tongue over and around the head of his cock, making love with her mouth firmly but slowly.

"You like this, Billy?" she said. "You want me so suck you more?" Her breath was coming in short gasps. He could tell even with her blindfold that she was more desperate than anything he could remember.

“Yes, suck me. Suck my cock.”

Bill closed his eyes, determined to enjoy this once in a lifetime experience. He wasn't watching her when she opened her mouth and engulfed half of his cock down her throat, sucking it hard as she did so. He threw his head back in shock and pleasure, and she moaned and picked up the pace gradually.

"Oh my God," Bill moaned, reaching down to brush her shiny, golden hair with his long fingertips. He missed playing with her hair like that. Before, her permed hair felt bouncy against his hands, but now that she let her natural hair grow, it felt so soft and sleek. He loved it either way. Just like any other part of her body.

"Oh Billy," Hillary gasped, her mouth coming off his cock, "touch me. Touch me everywhere."

Bill was to intoxicated to disobey her, so he let his free hand wander and dipped his hand under her prison shirt. He was pleased to find out that she was stripped of her bra when the guards changed her clothes. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them lightly. She jumped a little when he did so, but it didn't deter her from her current task at hand. "You're so fucking beautiful, Hilly," Bill said, touching her cheek with his fingertips and guiding her mouth back to his cock. "You're so sexy as hell," he said, his breaths getting short now and his voice raspy. He went back to squeezing her breasts with his left hand stroking her cheek. With her mouth working double time, Bill felt he couldn't hold back any longer.

“Fuck me, then Billy," she gasped. "I want you inside me. And I want to see you."

Bill was in no mood to argue. Quickly, he untied her, freeing her from the uncomfortable chair that had been her companion for hours. He was careful not to bump into her cemented arm. With the ropes gone, he pulled her up and devoured her into searing kiss.

Something stirred inside them both, something that had been sleeping for thirty years, an animal attraction that had not been felt since the 80's. Sure, Bill still wanted her sexually, and her feelings for him never really went away, but this is different. It was like that day in Bermuda when they fucked for hours in the sandy beaches, never really being satisfied. And that thought terrified them both. But that didn't stop them from biting, nibbling, clashing their tongues against each other's, their hands busy touching as much skin as they could. Hillary gripped his cock and stroked him, but he paid attention to his neck as he massaged her breasts underneath her shirt. She instinctively hooked her leg behind his ass and drew him into the small bed that they were surprised to see had been there all along.

Bill gently removed her shirt and he finally saw the entirety of her creamy skin, glowing under the unflattering light. He sighed, his mouth watering. He could tell that she tasted just as good as he remembered all those years. Hillary too was getting impatient. He had too many clothes on. Licking her lips, she helped Bill get out of his pants, wanting to see the entirety of him. 

Hillary was stunned at his wounds, but her desire for him remained the same. She looked up at him and gazed at his eyes, his blue eyes that looked at her oh so tenderly. She softly rubbed her thumb against his rough skin, reacquainting herself with the sensation of being with him, something she had almost forgotten.

Bill then pulled off his shirt, and she brushed he garment away from his shoulders. More scars marred his chest and back. She felt her heart being ripped as her eyes scanned his body, her fingers tracing each wound. Hillary couldn't imagine what hell Bill had to go through to acquire these scars, but she didn't want to think of that now. She was too drunk in lust to care about anything else.

He laid her down gently on the bed, careful not to bump her plastered arm. He helped her remove her prison shirt. It took a while to take it off but he was patient. After all, he waited for thirty years for this to happen again, and he thought it never would. What was a mere minute compared to half of his lifetime?

The Hillary before him was the same Hillary had remembered: sexy and beautiful, with more a voluptuous body and with a scar on her belly, a remnant of her C-section when she gave birth to their daughter. She instinctively opened her legs to give him access, letting him settle in between her thighs.

Bill gulped nervously. As much as they been intimate with each other so many times before, he felt like it was like their first time together all over again. He hadn't been with a woman for months, and the pressure to make her, his beloved wife, come was weighing heavily on her shoulders. Given, he did make her come into completion earlier, but this was different. He feared she might be disappointed. He knew she saw him as a heartless monster, but still, he wanted to redeem himself just a little bit.

The dull ache in his sac already turned into painful throbbing. He saw that she was more than ready and willing to finally take him in. Hillary gasped as Bill plunged his cock into her soaking pussy to the hilt. It’s been thirty years since he had been with her, but she was as tight as their first time. The only difference was that she had never been so hot and wet. Bill felt a little gratification knowing that she had been enjoying this as much as he did.

Who knew they had the same fantasy?

Bill thrust hard, ramming into her as far as he could before nearly withdrawing. She was nearly screaming now. “Oh…oh…I’ve missed this!”

Without warning, Hillary spasmed uncontrollably around his cock, panting and gasping, shaking all over. Bill didn’t stop. He just fucked her harder. When her body relaxed, she started moaning again, “Please…” Bill bit his lip, trying to bring this to a whole new level.

Suddenly, he had an idea, but he wasn’t sure she would like it. Bill drew his finger and put it in her mouth, letting her suck it again. When he felt that his fingers were adequately moistened, he let his hand crawl under her ass and teased with her hole a bit, prodding gently. His other hand rubbed her clit, feeling her asshole loosen. When he felt he was ready, her pushed a tiniest inch of his finger on her ass. This produced a brief gasp, so he rubbed her clit more, resulting to a more breathless gasp and more fevered gyrations.

As her asshole loosened more, he slowly began to move his finger in and out, in and out, getting it all the way in on every stroke and taking it almost all the way out. As she was nearing orgasm, he pulled his finger completely and shoved it entirely back inside her.

"Oh!" she let out, arching her back.

Hillary's legs became tense again and her pussy started quivering, her asshole clenching and unclenching around his finger. She was cumming, and she was cumming hard. His face was drenched with sweat, and his cock with her juices as she let out a long shuddering groan, nearly falling off the bed with her spasm.

Bill felt his balls tighten and his cum began to build. "Fuck" he groaned, looking down and watching his cock pump feverishly into her. Without warning, his cock exploded into her pussy, shooting load after load into her depth. "Yes, fill me, fill me with your cum," she coaxed him.

Spent and panting, Bill pulled out his finger and his cock from her, and she slumped on the bed, scooting to make room for him. It was a small bed, but they somehow managed to squeeze in. Hillary gasped in satisfaction, and then buried her head in the crook of his neck. “Thank you,” she said, her hand lovingly squeezing his. 

Bill fought the urge to kiss her crown, suddenly aware of the reality they were in. As much as they wanted to remain in this state forever, whatever happened between them didn’t change anything. There were still adversaries in the morning, and she was going to be executed before sunset.

But this time, her execution weighed heavily in his heart.

_Fuck…she’s going to die. And there’s nothing going to stop that._

Bill recalled her reaction earlier when she saw his scars. She looked like she was going to cry. He was suddenly reminded of an unfamiliar feeling of having someone who would cry for him and take sorrow of his pain. Even though he had hurt her immensely, she still found the heart to set her contempt for him aside and to weep for him, to be his wife when he needed her. That thought crushed his heart into pieces, as he couldn’t bear the guilt of being a pathetic husband to her.

Finally unable to contain his guilt, he gently pushed her aside and got off the bed and dressed up. A confused Hillary got up and gave him a quizzing look. He simply ignored her as he pulled his shirt and pants back. He also handed her clothes and helped her dress. All the while, she was looking for answers, but he had given none. No. He would rather not tell her why. He had already compromised himself too much.

Bill left for the door and opened it. But before he could get out, he turned around and said, “My offer still stands. You have until tomorrow to change your mind.” He dared not look at her, or else he would see the immense hurt in her misty eyes. He turned away to leave, but before he could do so, he heard her voice from inside.

“I have a counter-offer.”

He didn’t look back. “What is it?”

Her voice began to crack. “Let us go unharmed, or you’ll never see your daughter ever.”

Just like that, she managed to destroy his world in just eleven words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an impromptu trip tomorrow so I can't upload. Thankfully I finished revising this early. An extra long chapter after the cruel cliffhanger before. LOL. 
> 
> I won't have work tomorrow until Sunday so expect at least one update during those days ^_^
> 
> And thank you thank you for the lovely comments. Huhuhu. You guys are the best. 
> 
> P.S. to the anon on Tumblr who asked for me, thank you thank you! If you are serious with your fic request, PM me @the-evergreen-eagle and we'll talk. ^_^


	11. Guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I am exhausted these past few days. :(

**_Undisclosed Location, Rodinia, June 17, 2009_ **

The man paced back and forth inside his soundproof private quarters as he whispered in his burner phone, talking to his overseas contacts. He was tense and uneasy. He had been so since he witnessed that stunning development inside Hillary Rodham's cell via a secret video camera, whose feed he just finished watching a few minutes ago. After he saw the tryst between the Supreme Leader and the Secretary of State, he deemed it urgent to relay this information immediately.

 "Are you sure?" said a man from the other line.

 "Positive. I got it on tape," said the man.

 "Shit. Mueller's gonna push for a FISA warrant."

 "I know. Fuck. I didn't think she'd fall for him. Especially after we planted that false cable."

 "You mean with Eagle and the prostitute?"

 "Precisely."

 Successive tsk's were heard from the phone. "We need to break them apart for good. Our last attempt didn't work. She was crying for weeks."

 "How? She's smitten now more than ever. And apparently, he is too."

 "Well if he kills her first..."

 "We can't have her killed. That's surely an escalation. I am sure her disappearance is already making waves in the news."

 "It is. Brings out the worst in cable news. CNN is breaking bullshit news every now and then and Fox is clamoring for POTUS to resign."

 "Oh fuck them. They make a circus out of this."

 "Agree 100%."

 The man sighed. "We need to focus. How's Operation Argo?"

 "Running smoothly in our end. And you?"

 "All set. Just waiting for the green light."

 "Good. We are ready then."

 "Yep. Good luck to you."

 "Same. Take care of yourself then."

 "I will, thanks."

 The man ended the call and proceeded to find his sledgehammer to destroy his burner phone. 

**** **_Courtroom 1J, Ministry of Justice, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 17, 2009_ **

The doors of the courtroom swung open, revealing Hillary and her two jailers. She was wearing an immaculate white pantsuit given to her by the prison warden. Her face was unreadable, and her face bore unmistakable signs of exhaustion: large eyebags, droopy eyes, and pasty skin. Her hair was as every bit as golden as it had been, but it lacked the luster that it usually had. With her cast still on her arm, Hillary walked towards the empty right side of the court and sat all alone by herself, her jailers closely behind. 

Bill gave not even a slightest hint of acknowledgement to her. He didn't look at her. He simply fixed his eyes on the judges, because that was the only way he could seeing her sad eyes.

With every party now present, the judges deemed the time had come to commence with the session. 

The chief judge cleared his throat. "Court is now in session for the trial of Hillary Rodham."

Bill stood up, ignoring her occasional glances at him. "The prosecution is ready, Your Honors."

Hillary stood up as well, the ache between her legs not helping her prop herself up. "I stand ready."

"Very well," said the chief judge, "Mr. Clinton, your opening statement, if you please."

Hillary turned her head to look at him. Like her, he was tired and stressed out. He seemed to not have slept all night either. His eyes looked weird. But despite his apparent exhaustion, he maintained his emotionless facade in front of everybody. 

"It is the prosecution's opinion that the evidence heard and seen yesterday doesn't change the fact that the witness committed treason. The prosecution requests that this matter be resolved quickly so that we can finally serve justice," said Bill.

The way Bill delivered his opening statement was so cold, so automatic, so cruel that Hillary wondered if he ever felt sympathy for her. She certainly did feel for him yesterday, and for a while, she thought he did too, but his cold demeanor after his abrupt departure told her otherwise. The Bill standing inside that courtroom wasn't the Bill she had known and loved, the Bill who begged her to leave Rodinia for the future of their daughter. Containing the pain in her heart, she simply closed her eyes, letting a single tear fall off her cheeks.

The chief judge then turned to Hillary. "The defendant?"

Hillary wiped the singular tear away. As if fate working its way, Bill turned and saw her looking down, crushed and defeated. The sight of her stirred the dull ache in his heart and it roared back to life. Having done training on espionage and stealth, he had a much better tolerance for heartbreak than she did, so he managed to expertly mask his true feelings. But deep inside, he was as crushed as she was. 

He wondered if they would ever be whole again. 

Hillary took a deep breath, and said three words than stunned the entire courtroom, save Bill.

"I plead guilty."

Bill looked away.

Hillary bowed her head, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

"I confess to the crimes that I have been accused of," she tearily said in front of the court. "I fully take responsibility for my actions, and I am prepared to face any punishment that you deem fit to bestow upon me."

The court watched Hillary in silence, while Bill clenched his fist so tightly. He still couldn't bear to look at her.

Why couldn't she just accept his terms? He was doing it to save her life. Didn't she see? He was giving her a lifeline!

Hillary's next words seemed to have answered his thoughts.

"Many of you might ask why I was so willing to accept the punishment for my treason even though I knew I believed what I did was right and just. The answer is simple: I will not allow impunity to prevail, in the United States or in everywhere else. As treason is punishable by death in this country, and I have committed such act, let justice be served to me."

Bill looked further away. He felt so much pride for her that he might burst. He didn't let her see that, though.

"I...I am also doing this for my daughter."

The mere mention of their daughter suddenly made Bill turn around towards her, his heart holding on to her next words.

"I love her. I love her so much that I am willing to do this sacrifice just so she could live in a world that is safe and secure," Hillary was now openly sobbing. "Every day, when we talk, I am in awe of her brilliance and strength. I keep asking myself: how did I get so lucky to have a child like her? She was my rock, my refuge, my everything. I couldn't bear to have her experience what I experienced in here. That's why I left Rodinia. Under the punishment of death, I escaped from the horrible regime of this country and started a new life in the United States with her. It wasn't easy for us, though. We were struggling to make ends meet. Refugees like us were considered second-class citizens. Nevertheless, we persisted. We managed to get by, and we were accepted by our community. And now, my daughter is waiting to be married. And it pains me that I may not be around in her wedding day."

Hillary struggled to regain her composure with the hard sobs that she couldn't stop. Bill, on the other side of the aisle, was struggling too. He looked like he wanted nothing more than the cross the aisle and embrace her and let her wail in his chest as he caressed her crown. He never wanted it to be this way. He never wanted her to sacrifice.

He was fighting for them too.

Why couldn't she see that?

Or was she just ignoring that fact?

"Finally, I have a message for the Supreme Leader."

Bill was all ears.

"I just want to say that I am thankful for everything. I am thankful that you came into my life and gave me Chelsea. We grew apart. I only wish that we didn't. But every day, I pray that you're safe and well. And every day, God granted me my prayers. I couldn't me more thankful than that."

Everyone's eyes were on Bill, who maintained his stoic front, but his restraint was slipping.

"Very well, I shall now deliver the verdict," said the chief judge. "After reviewing the evidence and testimony presented yesterday, and those presented during the first trial of Ms. Hillary Rodham ten years ago, this court had concluded that Hillary Rodham, citizen of Rodinia and the United States, is guilty of treason, as specified in the Patriot Act, and is sentenced to be executed by fusillade, no later than the sunset tomorrow, 18th of June, 2009"

The audience gave a triumphant cheer, seeing Rodinia's Number 1 enemy be sentenced to death. Hillary simply closed her eyes and breathed. Her jailers held her arm to take her away, and for the first time, she resisted. For the first time, she felt fear. No, no, no. She didn't want to die yet. She wanted to live. She wanted to see Chelsea get married. She wanted to play with her grandchildren she might have.

_I want to live._

Bill, on the other hand, was being cheered upon and congratulated. His eyes were dry, but they clearly showed marks of sadness. He simply accepted their congratulations, plastered with a fake smile on his face. He's basking now, but inside, he really wanted to follow her and comfort her, tell her how sorry he was, that he never intended to have end things this way. He told her before that he was going to sacrifice for them. Why is it that she was the one going to give her life now?

As she was taken away, Hillary turned around gave Bill one last glimpse. She choked again before she mouthed "thank you and I love you."

Bill looked up and sought to the heavens.

_Why did you give Hillary a husband so undeserving?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter doesn't seem too weepy. LOL. We are nearing the part one of our story. The next chapter's gonna be lit. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for the kind comments and kudos!


	12. Raid I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be just one chapter but...

**_Fort William Jefferson Clinton, Stratenberg, Rodinia, June 18, 2009_ **

Huma lay in her bed, tossing and turning as mosquitos feasted on her olive skin. Her cell inside the military facility had obviously been less favorable than her DC apartment. Ventilation-wise, it was infinitely worse. She had been bathing in her own sweat and the air felt stuffy.

She had been amazed that she had lived for so long since they got arrested in Stratenberg beach. The Rodinian guards had left her alone mostly, save for the time when they had to feed her. As for her colleagues, she had no idea how they were, or if they were still alive. They had been isolated from each other ever since they got into the detention facility and they had no way to know what happened to either of them.

They weren’t being tortured physically, but psychologically.

Being alone was one thing but being with them hanging that your friends might be dead with you unknowing could drive a person insane. Really, it could, and Huma resorted to praying five times a day just to keep her sanity in check. She didn’t know if she was on time, as the guards confiscated her phone and her watch, but she did it whenever she thought it was due. And so far, she had been okay.

Huma turned again, the mosquitos really bothering her. She was banking on her exhaustion to lull her to sleep.

But she wasn’t meant to sleep tonight.

From the far end of the corridor where her detention call was, she heard footsteps and voices. She bolted straight up. That was odd. Even at this late hour, it wasn’t usual for anyone to break the silence, or at least that was she had been used to for the two days she was in. Huma wondered what it was.

She got up and slowly crept towards her door to listen. The voices were getting louder, mostly sounding panicked and spitting out curses. Something must have happened inside the facility, she surmised. She didn’t know military speak, but she could understand enough to know that there was something wrong. Someone said about alerting John Podesta, Bill Clinton’s aide-de-camp. If it was something John Podesta needed to be alerted about, then it must have been something serious.

Huma backed off from the door a bit, not wanting to be caught snooping. She went back to bed, and just for good measure, she hid under it. The shouting and talking became louder, and the panic intensified. And for the first time, Huma heard someone fire a gunshot.

Her soul almost jumped out.

Her heart quickened, and her breaths shallowed. Her sweat turned cold as ice. The gunshots had been more frequent and intensified. Soon, Huma realized that there was an exchange of gunfire. Someone had been attacking them. One-by-one, Huma heard grunts and screams of men being shot, each one more horrifying than the last. She covered her ears as her tears started flowing, praying that this would be over soon, praying that they, whoever they were, wouldn’t find her, that she would leave out of this unscathed.

_A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem…A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem…A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem…_

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and a new set of voices, not like the ones cussing earlier, took over. The seemed to have won the gunfight, and they were checking if their enemies were dead. Occasionally, someone would shot a bullet or two to ensure that their enemies were dead. The voices grew louder until they were at what she surmised was in front of her cell door.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

Huma didn’t answer.

“This is Sgt. Lucas Kelly of DEVGRU. I repeat. Is anybody there?”

_Oh my God,_ Huma thought. _They’re SEAL Team 6!_

Huma finally found her courage and her voice.

“It’s me, Huma Abedin. Secretary Rodham’s aide,” she shouted from inside and under the bed.

She heard multiple sighs of relief from the other side. “Where are you, Ma’am?”

“I’m hiding under the bed, from the far end of the room,” she replied.

“How far is the bed from the door?”

“A little over then five meters, I guess.”

“Good. Just stay under the bed, Ma’am. We’ll blow up the lock in there. The door’s pretty sturdy so it shouldn’t have much impact on you, but we want you as far away from the door as possible. Understand?” said Kelly.

“Okay.”

Huma heard Kelly command his comrades to leave him and another colleague to work on the door, while the others secure the other hostages. Huma pressed herself closer to the wall as she heard Kelly and his comrade attach something to the door.

“Alright, Ma’am, we’re going to blow up the door. Are you still under the bed?” asked Kelly.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Stay back. On the count of three…one, two, three…”

BOOM. It was the loudest sound Huma had ever heard. Even with her fingers covering her ears, the sound of the explosion pierced through her eardrums. She felt her head being drilled following the explosion.

All of a sudden, the door broke open, and a slither of light reached Huma from under the bed. She slowly inched forward, revealing herself to large, armed men who were clearly US soldiers.

One of them, Kelly’s companion, approached her and helped her get up.

“Up we go,” said the man. “My name is Sgt. Adrian Andrews. Please wear this bulletproof vest.” Andrews handed Huma a bulletproof vest and she immediately obeyed his orders.

“Come, Ms. Abedin. Please follow us.”

Kelly and Andrews flanked Huma, one on her front and another on her back. They kept her close as they jostled out of the deserted corridor, occasionally stepping on the bodies of dead Rodinian soldiers.

**_John Podesta’s Private Quarters, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009_ **

John looked at his clock. 0032H. Two phones sat on his bedside table. He was waiting for one of them to ring. He had been waiting for a call for an hour now. What was taking them so long? Did something bad happen?

Finally, one of them rang.

“Hello?” he said.

“Sir, this is Colonel Darren Stevenson from Fort WJC. US SEALs managed to infiltrate our facility. We believe they’re coming for the hostages.”

“Shit!”

“We’ll try to contain them. We’ll give you an update on the situation, Sir.”

“Okay.”

His heart racing, John pulled his holster carrying two guns and his magazines from his bedside drawer. He pulled his bulletproof vest on.      

Armed and ready, he silently made his way to the maximum-security detention cell.  

**_Bill Clinton’s Private Quarters, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009_ **

Bill laid his small arsenal of rifles, pistols, and other military grade weapons in his bed as he pulled his Kevlar vest on and wore his protective mask and night vision goggles, effectively concealing his identity. Aside from his physique, nothing in his gear could identify him as Bill Clinton. He wore his gloves and his boots. He buckled his magazine belt. He put his guns in their holsters. He was ready to go.

He set his destination for the maximum-security cell, hoping that he wouldn’t be too late.

**_Maximum Security Detention Cell, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009_ **

Hillary sat in her cell, writing her final letter to Chelsea. For her last act as her daughter’s mother, she deemed it prudent to finally let Bill see Chelsea if he wished to. She realized that she didn’t have the right to keep her daughter’s father away from her. Chelsea should have the right to know her father. After all, she had promised her to tell her one day. It wasn’t the scenario that she had been envisioning but at least she would get to keep her promise.

It broke her heart to have to tell Chelsea this way.

 

> _June 18, 2009_
> 
> _Dear Chelsea,_
> 
> _If you read this, I am likely gone from this world. I’m so sorry that I had to do it this way Chels, but I wasn’t given the opportunity to tell you in the manner I wished to be._
> 
> _Remember that day in 1996 when we were supposed to celebrate but I came home late and was crying in our doorstep? You asked me what I was crying about, and I said it was about some dear I left back in Rodinia, and I found out they were alive, and I promised to tell you one day._
> 
> _That day has arrived, Chels. I am so sorry that I have kept this from you for so long, but it was detrimental to our country’s safety that information be hidden. But after my death, things changed, Sweetie. I needed to make arrangements to let you know all about my secret._
> 
> _Chelsea, before you react to what you are about to know, I ask you that you read this letter to completion. It is important that you know of the whole story._
> 
> _The man who is holding this letter caught my eye in the spring of 1971, when we were young, carefree law students. He looked like a Viking, with the big beard that covered his entire face, but I found him attractive. One night while I was at the library, I saw him as well too, talking with a few of our classmates. I was staring at him, and I realized he was staring back. For a while, we were playing a proverbial hide and seek inside the library, trying to catch each other staring but only withdrawing our gazes in the last second. Finally, I became exasperated and so I stood up and walked across the entire length of the library and said to him, “If you’re going to stare at me, and I’m going to keep staring back, then we ought to know each other’s name. I’m Hillary Rodham. What’s yours?”_
> 
> _The man, he would later tell me, was so struck that he momentarily forgot his name, but he did eventually. We exchanged a few words and then I left the library happier than when I entered it._
> 
> _I was just out of a break-up then, so I wasn’t really being serious, but he was charming and most of all, persistent. I was really drawn into him, like he was the sun and I was the Earth revolving around him constantly (while I myself was constantly spinning around with my schoolwork and my causes). Before we knew it, we fell in love._
> 
> _And not long after, we got married._
> 
> _But like all marriages, there are speed bumps, ours included. For a while, we tried to have a baby, but we weren’t successful. We saw so many doctors and tried the best science had to offer, but we were successful. Finally, we just got so exhausted with trying that we decided to go on to a vacation to Bermuda before we saw another doctor again._
> 
> _While we were in that beautiful island, we saw how Rodinia fell into a coup led by the man who went on to become the first Supreme Leader. We were worried about things back home, but the man that I love told me not to worry, at least while we were on that island, and it eased my fears._
> 
> _And what do you know, our vacation in Bermuda produced a miracle: you._
> 
> _We were so ecstatic that we found out that we were pregnant. We were finally going to have a baby! We were over the moon when we saw that pregnancy test with two lines._
> 
> _But our euphoria over the excitement of meeting you didn’t dampen our worries._
> 
> _Rodinia had fallen into chaos, each day worse than the last. There were demonstrations everywhere and the prospect of the Supreme Leader making Rodinia a hermit state like North Korea increased by the day, so we had to make a terrible decision. I was to leave Rodinia and raise you in the United States and your father was to stay in Rodinia. He would have come with me but during those days, the government is already strict about Rodinians leaving the country for any reason. It just happened that I had a conference to attend to in the US and I was confirmed months before so I was allowed to go. I never told anyone I was pregnant, so I would not arouse suspicion. As you can guess, I was successful in escaping the Rodinian authorities and applied to the US as a refugee._
> 
> _As you know, in Rodinia, if you left the country without returning, the government would go after your loved ones, and they did. They went after your father. The tortured him and did unspeakable things to him. For sixteen years, I thought he was dead. I thought the government killed him, until that fateful day in 1996 when I received the first report saying that he was alive._
> 
> _And now, he’s standing right in front of you._
> 
> _I understand that the truth might stun you, and I do not blame you for it, but please, understand one thing: your father loves you. He was always thinking of you. I know there was nothing more he wanted than seeing you. I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye in many things, but we are in one heart when it comes to you. I know there are times that I tried to give up on him as his wife but I never doubted his dedication to you._
> 
> _All I ask now, Chelsea, is that you bear no hatred against him despite what he had done to many people. I know it’s hard, but I ask you to try. You can condemn his act, just as I did, but still bear no ill will. However, I will not begrudge you the time to make yourself in terms with the truth._
> 
> _I am sorry for whatever shortcomings I might had, and I am sorry for having to tell you the truth this way. I wish I could have protected you from all of this but I couldn’t. But I am not too worried. You’re a strong, independent woman. You can handle anything._
> 
> _I love you, Chels. I love you, even from afar._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Mom_

When Hillary finished her letter to Chelsea, she turned pulled out a fresh piece of paper and wrote another letter, this time, to Bill.

 

> _June 18, 2009_
> 
> _Dear Bill,_
> 
> _When I told you that I wouldn’t let you see Chelsea, I realized later that I made a horrible mistake. I shouldn’t deprive our daughter the right to see you just because we have irreconcilable differences. She should have the opportunity to know the truth. After all, I had promised her that I would tell her about you._
> 
> _With this letter to you is another letter addressed to her, telling her everything. Give that letter to her when you decide to see her. As my final act as her mother, I should make it sure that I properly introduce you to her. I hope with my heart that you see her one day under the best circumstance. I would have wanted to introduce her to you myself, but we know that isn’t possible at this point._
> 
> _Bill, I want you to know that despite what had happened between us, my feelings for you never changed. We probably didn’t end under the best of circumstances, but I still feel the same way about you. I just wished that things had been different._
> 
> _I’m sorry for all the horrible things I did to you. I have long forgiven you for everything that had happened, and I will now go to my grave without any regrets nor hatred in my heart._
> 
> _Live happily, my love._
> 
> _Always,_
> 
> _Hilly_

Hillary neatly folded the second piece of paper and wrote “Bill” on the back. She planned to hand it personally to Bill when she would be presented to him before her execution. She was sure he would accept it. He better should, or else he would lose the only chance of meeting their daughter.

With all her affairs in order, Hillary couldn’t still help but feel afraid. She knew she told many people multiple times that she was willing to die for the United States, but her sheer will didn’t remove the fear in her heart. She realized how little she thought of life. She cared for it so little when she had been so preoccupied with so many things, but now that her life was certain to come to close, that was when she wanted it so much. Indeed, people want things more then they were about to be taken away from them.

Hillary prayed for a miracle, that somehow, she would be saved from all of this.

Suddenly, the door of her cell busted open, with a flustered John Podesta holding an Armalite rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. A cliffhanger. The chapter is getting waaay too long so I had to cut it. I wholeheartedly welcome angry, frustrated comments. LOL!


	13. Raid II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no beta.

_**Maximum Security Detention Cell, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009**_  
Hillary gulped as John cocked his gun and pointed it towards her. She shook in fear, her legs and knees failing her. She immediately tucked her letters in the waistband of her pants as she stepped backwards away from John. 

"You got to come with me, Hillary," John said. 

"Where are you taking me?" she asked. 

"The US has taken your other colleagues back. You're all we have left," he replied.  
Her eyes widened, stunned and heartened by this sudden development. "What do you want from me now?"

"Your silence," he said.

Her heart stopped. "Please...I beg you...please have mercy..."

"Your colleagues left us with no choice, Ms. Rodham."

She felt her back hit the stone wall, her tears starting to fall. "No...please..."

"We aren't playing games, Rodham. You know that. The US took something it shouldn't have. Now they will pay the price," said John. 

"No...no...please...I have a daughter..."

"I am well-aware of that, Rodham. And what else could you have used as a bargaining chip against your husband?"

The revelation of the depth of John's knowledge left her winded. 

What else did John know?

"You may ask, what else do I know?" John chided, and his impeccable response to her thoughts sent chills down her spine. 

"Well, then," he continued, "let's just say that I am like God watching over you 24/7.  And I know you did things that if Obama knew, he wouldn't have hired you as his Secretary of State."

Hillary tried not to be deterred, or at least not look like it. She didn't know if he was telling the truth, or if he was just playing psychological tricks on her. Either way, it scared the shit out of her. 

After all, there was a hint of truth to his last statement. 

And just like that, John's words did more damage to her than a bullet ever could. 

_**7th Floor, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009** _

Bill, fully armed and fully disguised, managed to infiltrate the Bureau without any interruptions, partly thanks to the situation in Stratenberg, as everyone was dedicated to the crisis. But Bill knew his luck would run out soon. The place was swarming with CCTVs, and he was bound to be seen by the jail guards. He had to make a run for it while he could. 

At the end of the corridor of the seventh floor was the maximum-security detention cell, and his heart sank when he saw the cell door open. He quietly jostled towards the open call, it went like the end of his world when his worst fears were confirmed. 

_Shit._

_She's gone._

_They already took her._

Cursing under this breath, Bill quickly left the cell and frantically searched for the captive Secretary of State. 

_**White House Situation Room, The White House, Washington D.C., June 18, 2009** _

President Obama and the rest of his national security team, save for Hillary, were all present in the White House Situation Room, monitoring the events in Stratenberg via a screen showing the live feed from their monitoring drone. Each of them sighed in relief as they saw hostages emerge from the military facility one by one, escorted by two SEALs each, and ran their way towards a Cessna that was waiting for the around half a mile outside the facility. Once every SEAL and hostage was inside the Cessna, everybody roared into a rousing applause. President Obama pumped his fist in the air as he was pulled by Vice President Biden into a heartfelt hug. Tom Donilon and Bob Gates enthusiastically shook hands, as the rest of the team chatted happily in the background. 

"Alright, the nineteen hostages in Stratenberg are all safe now," said Obama as the people quieted down. "But we still need to save Hillary."

The faces of each one of them suddenly went back to being serious, knowing that they still had another hostage on hand - the most important of them all. 

Obama turned to Tom. "Tom, any updates from Aldenkirk?"

"I'm gonna make the call, Sir. Excuse me."

Tom excused himself from the others while Obama addressed the rest of them. 

"I hope the Rodinians hadn't touched Hillary yet. I'm sure they won't let her live another second more after we rescued our people," said CIA director Leon Panetta. 

"After the talks had faltered earlier, I really thought they'd kill her," said Ann Watkins, the number three official at State and the acting Secretary of State following Hillary's and Jim's disappearances. 

"As of 2200H, she's still alive," said Obama. 

"Those bastards better not touch her or else I'd choke each of them," said Biden. 

"Now, now, Joe," Obama cautioned his Vice President.

"Maybe Hillary used the marriage card to delay her execution," suggested Leon. 

"I don't think so," said Obama, "Clinton's in immense political pressure to execute her. And besides, we have ample evidence that he has no more affections towards his wife."

Bob Gates shifted in his seat.  

Biden rubbed his face with his hand. "Nobody thought this would happen."

"Clinton was ready to pounce on her since Day One and we were left unguarded," said Leon sadly. 

"Now, now, men," Obama patted Biden and Panetta. "No time to mope around. We still have a Secretary of State to rescue."

"Yes. No time to whine," Biden pumped his fists. 

"Let's get back to business," said Panetta.  
Obama and the rest of the team focused on planning their options as the operation to save Hillary was going on. Meanwhile, a few feet away, Tom Donilon cursed under his breath as his Rodinian contact ignored his calls. 

_**5** _ _**th Floor, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009** _

John Podesta ignored the constant ringing of his cellphone as hw kept his gunpoint at Hillary who was walking in front of him, instructing her where to go. She had no choice but to obey. With her uninjured arm raised and the other one kept on a cast, she trembled as she walked across the long hallways of the Bureau of Detentions.

"That's right, Rodham. Keep walking. Be an obedient little girl," John coaxed her in a sinister fashion.

Despite the fear that engulfed her, Hillary felt pure hatred towards John, who seemed to enjoy tormenting her.

"When you reach the end of the hallway, we'll take the staircase and go down until we get to the first floor. Got it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes," she said a little louder.

"I can't hear you," John insisted, mocking her in purpose.

"Yes!" she bellowed.

Satisfied at pissing her off, John stuck his rifle closer to Hillary. "Good. Just be a good girl or else..."

He shot two warning shots on the floor, and Hillary jumped, hitting her already injured arm against the nearby wall, thus making her scream in pain.  

Two floors above, Bill heard the gunshot and her scream.

_**7th Floor, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009** _

There was no doubt it. It was Hillary's scream that he heard. With her scream following two gunshots, there was no doubt in his mind that she was in trouble. Wasting no time at all, he frantically ran towards the nearest staircase. He reached the sixth floor corridor, and found it empty. He checked every cell and room, but there were not so much as her shadow in any of them.

His eye caught the staircase, and he decided to descend to the fifth floor.

_**5th Floor, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009** _

Hillary groaned in pain as she struggled to get up. The pain in her arm had worsened. It felt like somebody was trying to rip her arm away from her body.

"Get up. We need to get out of here," said John, still pointing the rifle at her.

"I can't, my arm's really hurt," she moaned.

"Get up, bitch. Whining's not gonna cut it. Either you get up or you die now."

Hillary pulled every ounce of strength from inside her, using her uninjured arm to prop herself up. She could barely stand up because of the immense pain, but she somehow did. 

And everything that transpired were seen by Bill's very own eyes.

Never did he felt so much rage, more than when he found out what the US did to his and Hillary's father, the reason of his hatred towards the United States.

How dare he speak to her like that.

Never did he had so much urge to kill someone.

Bill was crouched behind the series of cells where John and Hillary were in front of. He was hiding for quite a while now. He was supposed to wait for John to turn is back around before shooting him, but he was so enraged that his hand, having a mind of its own, pulled the trigger.

The bullet almost hit John, but it missed. He and Hillary both jumped. John turned around to Bill's direction and pointed his rifle. 

"Come out now, whoever you are," Joh  said as he walked towards where Bill was. "I don't like playing hide and seek."

Hillary took the opportunity to walk away from John and escape. Unfortunately, when she took the first steps, John's expert ears caught her. 

"One step bitch and I'll blow your brains out."

There it was again. The word Bill hated Hillary to be called as. With his temper rising and his restrain slipping, Bill finally revealed himself and showered John with bullets.

John managed to take cover behind an open cell, and took Hillary along with him. 

"Fuck!" John screamed when he realized he was out of bullets ans he stopped to reload. Bill took the opportunity to come closer and fire more bullets at John. Bill ran off to another open cell close to where John and Hillary was and there, he managed to regroup. 

Bill was about to fire again, but then he saw John now in the corridor, holding Hillary in the neck, and pointing a gun in her head. 

"You see this?" John taunted Bill, who thought that his aide-de-camp hadn't recognized him. "One move, or she dies!" John was confused. Nobody told him that the US would be sending someone to rescue Hillary. Who was this man? And was he really going to rescue the Secretary of State?

Bill loosened his grip on his rifle, and removed his aim from John. He needed to come up with a plan. How was he going to take John's grip away from Hillary? 

"Arms down and hands up. Now!" John demanded forcefully. 

Bill had no choice to obey. He knelt to put his rifles, guns and magazines on the floor, and he raised his hands as he stood back up. Every frightened whimper from Hillary tightened the strings that gripped his heart so forcefully. It was his fault that she ended up this way, and he would bet his life if he could get her out of this alive. 

"Good, good," said John, satisfied. "If you want her to remain unharmed, stay there until you don't see us anymore. Remember, one move and I kill her, understood."

Bill scowled under his disguise, unbeknownst to John, who was pulling Hillary away, crying for help and pleading for her life. Bill kept his hands in the air, waiting for the right time to strike.

Momentarily, John turned his head around to see if there was someone behind them, and Bill took that split second advantage to take the small container of tear gas that he didn't remove from his person and threw it at John and Hillary. Puffs of smoke immediately clouded the corridor, causing John to loosen his grip on Hillary. Bill, who was wearing goggles, ran into the smoke and frantically searched from his wife, who was now coughing. 

He couldn't call her. Doing so would give his cover away, so he traced the source of the coughing sound. He couldn't see much in the smoke, but his sharp ears could tell that John was nearby, and Hillary was behind him. 

All of a sudden, Bill heard a gunshot, and a piercing pain tore into his hand. He stifled his scream. The bullet was lodged into his left hand. He knelt down and removed his glove to use it as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. Once his wound was wrapped, the bleeding had been contained, but it was still there.

Barely recovering from the gunshot wound, Bill felt a sharp pain in his jaw. He stood up and saw a teary-eyed John barely fighting his way through the smoke. John tried to suckerpunch him, but Bill managed to hit his stomach first with his knee. That left John momentarily disabled for a few seconds, and Bill ran off to Hillary.  Bill was barely a few feet from her when he felt John pull his leg, and so he tripped, hitting his nose on the floor, feeling the blood gush through his nostrils. Bill kicked his legs and he was able to kick John's face. 

Finally, Bill reached Hillary, who was already unconscious due to lack of air. He removed the bottom of his facial covering, revealing his mouth, and he immediately performed CPR on her. He pumped and pumped her chest and breathed air into her sweet mouth, his bloodied lips staining hers. 

_Shit_ _...Hillary...wake up...I'm here._

"Billy." she whispered as she coughed.

Bill was heartened to see her regain her consciousness, and that his name was the first thing out of her lips. He gently caressed her head lovingly.

"Honey, we've got to go," Bill said. 

"Alright." She groggily stood on her feet as he pulled her up. She used his body for support. They hurried towards the staircase before they John could catch up on them..

But before they knew it, they felt a strong shock run through every vein in their body, immediately drifting into unconsciousness. 

_**Ramstein Air Base, Germany, June 18, 2009** _

As the military plane landed in the huge runway of Ramstein Airbase, Congressman Neil Bosworth and Chelsea stood in the tarmac, agitated but nevertheless relieved that the second plane from Rodinia had finally arrived. 

They didn't use to believe in miracles.

Now they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...this.marks the end of Part I of Spoils. We're entering an entirely new territory in the coming chapters. And to kick off Part II, we will begin...with another flashback.
> 
> I feel like this is gonna be a long fic because...uhm...nothing has happened yet. LOL. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to the kudos and the lovely feedback. I'll try to post one chapter before the weekend because I have friends visiting me. ^_^


	14. Resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last chapter, I realized I made Bill into a mix of Harrison Ford and Kim Jong-Un :))))

_**Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, April 15, 1982** _

Bill felt the hard shove of the butt of his jailer's rifle in his back. He immediately fell on the floor, face first inside his regular cell, with not much strength to pull himself up. He had been in the "disciplinary cell" yet again. The "disciplinary cell" is a dungeon-like cell with the filthiest conditions, including but not limited to shit-laden floors and animal infestation, meant to "discipline" the erring inmate. In addition to these disgusting conditions, the inmate was left without food for 24 hours. The reports of existence of these cells prompted the UN to investigate these atrocities but the Rodiniangovernment denied entry to the UN investigators.

Bill had yet again been inside these disciplinary cells. He probably held the record of most visits to the said cell. People in the prison, guards and inmates alike, was astounded that he still hadn't died while inside the disciplinary cell. When asked why he managed to sustain the filthy conditions inside the cell, he would simply answer, "One does not simply die if they have something to live for."

That enigmatic response left everyone confused, so they decided not to press him further. They just regarded his answer as a manifestation of his mental deterioration. He wasn't bothering anyone for it anyway, so they decided that it was best that they leave him alone.

After spending several minutes on the floor, Bill finally decided to pull himself up towards his hard, wooden bed with a pile of old newspapers as his pillow.

He managed to carry himself to his bed, the cold and rough surface infinitely better than the floors of the disciplinary cell. He lay there, resting from the tumultuous night, but all of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down and he saw his dirty prison shirt now drenched in blood. Fuck. His wound, which he had gotten just a few days ago from a prison riot, was open again. He ripped a page from his stack of newspaper and pressed his wound with it, hoping that the pressure would suppress the bleeding. 

He closed his eyes, and he saw Hillary's face smiling down on him in the darkness, illuminating her surroundings. Her golden hair, her lovely overbite, her bright blue eyes. 

She was like an angel from heaven who descended to his wretched cell to give him comfort.

He opened his eyes, and he was surprised to see that she was still there. Her soft hand were pressing his wound, while the other was caressing his hair. He had never felt so happy. The pain, the hunger and the weakness suddenly went away, only to be replaced with joy. He grabbed her free hand and placed it on his cheek so he could kiss it.

"Oh, Hilly," he whispered, "You came back to me."

Hillary didn't answer, but only rubbed the back of his palm with her thumb.

"I've waited so long see you, Hilly," said Bill, his heart ready to burst.

He blinked, and suddenly, Hillary was holding a bundle wrapped in a white cloth. She cradled the bundle in her free arm. Her facial expression seemed to invite Bill to take a look at the bundle.

"Is that...is that...?" Bill could barely speak, not believing what he was seeing.

_It's our baby!_

Hillary's smile widened, and she eagerly nodded. Forgetting the wound in his stomach, he immediately got up, and a sharp pain pierced his abdomen again. Hillary caught him and helped him sit in his bed. Bill closed his eyes again to let the pain subside.

When he opened his eyes, he felt his heart sank to find Hillary gone. 

There wasn't a trace of her left, nor of their baby. He looked around, even down under his bed, but there was nothing.

It was one of his cruel hallucinations again. And it had gotten worse. Before, it was just Hillary, and now, there was their baby. Fuck.  The hallucinations were reaching a new level of bad for the Bill. They were growing more frequent, and more vivid.

But what could he do? If not for these hallucinations, of Hillary's beautiful face, he could have killed himself long ago.

It was these hallucinations that were giving him life.

And now, it was slowly eating him.

He promised himself he would survive so that he could see her once more, and finally meet her child.

But what if he couldn’t do this anymore? What if he had grown tired of fighting for them?

Wishing someone would answer those questions for him, Bill lied back in his bed, with nothing but the ceiling to listen to the rambles of a madman.

**_Cafeteria, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, April 21, 1982_ **

"Oy Clinton! The warden wants you in his office!" one of the jail guards shouted at Bill as he was just about to put his food tray on the bin and leave for his cell. He abruptly stopped midstep to collect himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ah, the warden again. How many time had he been called to the warden's office. He felt like a kid being called to the principal's office for committing mischief at school. He wasn't disobeying the jail regulations just to spite the jailers. No. He was doing so because of the inhumane things the jailers were doing to the inmates, many of whom were imprisoned unjustly. Someone should have been fighting, otherwise, they, their oppressors, had already won.

Bill placed his tray on the bin and went to the nearest guard to have himself handcuffed. Once his hands were secured, the guard held his arm and escorted him to the warden's office.

Once inside the office, Bill was surprised to see someone other than the warden sitting behind the desk. The guard with him straightened up and saluted the man behind the desk. He left when he was dismissed. 

Bill simply scowled at the man.

"Clinton," said the man.

"Loiseau," said Bill with utmost spite.

Desmond Loiseau the Supreme Leader of Rodinia, sat in front of Bill with an amused face. He was a man twenty years Bill's senior, a man with a handsome face but with a terrifying character. He commanded the fear of every person who had ever seen him. He was a man not to be trifled with. 

But not Bill.

"Please have a seat," Loiseau invited Bill, but the latter remained standing.

Embarrassed by Bill's refusal to his invitation, Loiseau cleared his throat. "So, I heard you've had another round in the disciplinary cell."

Bill simply scowled at Loiseau.

"We don't have to do this, Bill. We don't like putting you there Bill, and neither do you," said the Supreme Leader.

Bill's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I know you have a life outside prison you are looking forward to. You want to see your wife and your child..."

"Your lips are not even worthy to speak of my wife and child," Bill immediately spat, the veins in his temple protruding.

Loiseau clicked his tongue, obviously displeased by Bill's insubordinance but he chose to keep his temper in check.

"Alright," conceded Loiseau, "nothing about your wife and child..except that they have both committed Rodinian Law."

"How dare you..."

"It's true. But I can't do anything about them, can I? We don't have extradition treaties with the United States."

Somehow, Bill didnt't believe a word Loiseau said. Bill knew Loiseau could always find a way to deliver a nerve agent right in front of Hillary's doorstep.

Why ever trust a despot anyway?

"Let's just cut to the crap, Loiseau," said Bill, already tired of the Supreme Leader's antics. "You are trying to blackmail me with her. And you already know my answer. Might as well give me the death sentence right now."

"So brave, yet so foolish. Don't waste your life, my boy," replied Loiseau. "You and Hillary have so much ahead of you. You just even had a child."

Bill charged towards Loiseau and slammed the desk even with his handcuffs on.

"One more worth about by child from your filthy mouth..."

"Relax, Clinton. I have no intention of harming your family. Or at least, not yet. As you know how I run this country: upright, law-abiding citizens live happily. That's why I understand why you continue to resist my rule."

Bill scoffed. "Law-abiding? Maybe you mean sucking up to your every whim. News flash: Dissent isn't rebellion. It's an essential part of democracy."

"Oh really? I believe the State grants me the extraordinary powers when we are in a state of war," Loiseau raised a brow.

"A war you fabricated!" Bill shot back. "We were already prospering after the Rodinian Civil War! But then you had to make a coup and take away our civil liberties!"

Loiseau was being tested by Bill's defiance, but he was still in command. "You do not know what you speak of..."

"WELL, THEN TELL ME? OR BETTER YET, TELL EVERYONE!"

Loiseau cursed himself for falling into Bill's trap. Bill was a man to be reckoned with, and should not be taken lightly. He made a mental note of that.

"Listen, I did not come here to fight with you," sighed Loiseau. "I came here because I want to show you something."

"Save your energy. I am not interested," Bill refused.

Loiseau pulled out a folded from under his disk, and for a split second, Bill's eyes widened in curiosity, but he shoved his interest away immediately.

"Well, this for you," said Loiseau, pressing the folder into Bill. "Read it if you like. Or don't. It's all up to you."

"I don't believe you," Bill's eyes were reduced to slits again.

"You have my word for it," said Louiseau. "Whether you want to read it or not, it's up to you. And I won't punish you if you don't wish to."

Before Bill could even raise his objections, Loiseaustood up and went for the door, leaving Bill along in the warden's office. Something didn't feel right. It made Bill uneasy. Why in the world would Loiseauwant him to read this folder in such a voluntary manner?

_I didn't think the word voluntary existed in his mind_ , Bill thought.

But still, the peculiar circumstance over that folder only increased Bill's curiosity over that mysterious document.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised...another flashback! I hope it's not a downer after the previous chapter. Don't worry, we'll go back to the current timeline next chapter.
> 
> And I will try to answer some of the mysteries of the story. Stupid tear gas :)))
> 
> As always, thank you for the lovely feedback!


	15. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I slept through the entire weekend. No beta.

_**5th Floor, Bureau of Detention and Corrections, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 18, 2009** _

Bill woke up with a sting in his hand and a throbbing pain in his head. His hazy vision didn't help either. He looked down on his hand and found his blood still trickling from his wound, although most of it had coagulated already. His glove which he used as a tourniquet remained tightly bound on his hand. He blinked a couple of times so that his vision would focus. As the first clear images came in, he saw that he was still in the fifth floor of prison where he had an encounter with his John Podesta and Hillary. His head remained pounding as the the events just before he lost his consciousness had surfaced in his mind.

_"Billy," Hillary whispered to him, her consciousness slowly slipping away, her head turning to her while she lay on the floor._

_"Hilly," he quietly called to her, reaching for her hand, "we have to go." His vision was already deteriorating, and he too had_ _succumbed_ _to the floor. He was struggling to get up but he couldn't._

_"I can't," Hillary replied. Her eyelids were slowly closing._

_"No, no, no," Bill too felt like being pulled away_ _into_ _unconsciousness, and he knew he_ _didn_ _'t have much time left, so he did what he could do. Bill noticed that Hillary's shirt was up, and it showed a small amount of her midriff. In her waistband were two pieces of paper, one of which bore his name, and the other bore their daughter's name. He quickly pulled the paper out of her waistband and stuffed it inside his pocket, hoping that no one would see this and take it from him while he was unconscious._

_And one more thing: In his bloodied hand sat his wedding ring. That night, he chose to wear his ring outside his bedroom as a symbolic gesture, as a sign that he was fulfilling his duty as her husband. And besides, no one could see him wearing the ring because it was hidden beneath this gloves. He_ _couldn_ _'t be happier with his decision, as there was nothing more fitting than to part with her with his ring._

_Bill took off his ring and grabbed her hand and and tucked the ring in it. He closed her palm and kissed it. And singular tear fell from his eye._

_I can't believe I'm going to lose you again, he thought._

Bill closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't believe he had failed spectacularly in his very simple mission: to secretly take her out of Rodinia and fly her to a remote area in Great Britain just so she could escape her execution without further escalating the crisis between Rodinia and the US, and at the same time, prevent a political disaster for him.

His plan failed. He should have anticipated that the US would act to save her after the talks for her release had faltered.

However, he wouldn't have entirely failed if not for John Podesta.

That was odd. Why did John Podesta singlehandedly took Hillary? He should have asked for guards to escort them. A single gunman like him could have taken him down, and he almost sis. And, more importantly, why was he acting without his knowledge? Obviously, with the situation in Stratenberg, everyone even in Aldenkirk would be alarmed. John was obviously trying to take advantage of the chaos. But what for?

John wasn't a man to be trusted, but he couldn't terminate him just yet. He needed to find out who was he working for.

But he didn't wish to worry about it, or at least not now when he had something else that piqued his curiosity more.

Hillary's letters remained intact in is pocket, thank God. He was relieved that nobody had seen those. Bill was pretty sure that Hillary intended these for his eyes  alone. He took out the letters from his pocket and read the first one intended for him.

The singular drop of moisture in his eye broke into a dam of tears. Had the worst happened, Bill wouldn't be able to forgive himself - ever. Even with death hanging in her fate, Hillary had still thought about her family.

She was the most selfless person he had ever known.

He felt like a total piece of shit.

_Well, I am a piece of shit_ , he thought.

He should have known better than to make a gamble on her life to advance his goals. However, he reasoned, his goals weren't just for himself. He chose to betray their beliefs because he had known the horrible truth: that they were all being tricked and deceived by the nation that she now calls her home.

Bill sighed in deep thought. Surely, she must have known, especially now that she's Secretary of State. She had top security clearance, and she must have read about it in reports. But why was she still sticking up for the US? That didn't make sense to Bill. Knowing her, a woman of principle, she would have assailed against this injustice. Was somebody holding her hostage to keep her from doing something against the US interests?

The confusion would surely keep him up at night, and Bill vowed to himself he would find out why. 

**_Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, Germany, June 21, 2009_ **

Hillary opened her eyes for the first time  in days, her mind disoriented, her vision hazy. Her body ached as if she had been beaten up all over, especially her arm. As her vision focused, she found herself inside a hospital room, with unfamiliar faces surrounding her. 

"Secretary Rodham's awake!" one of the medical staff exclaimed. 

The staff - five of them - quickly scrambled around her to check her. 

"Madam Secretary, my name is Dr. Allan Fleming. you see us?" said Dr. Fleming.

Hillary couldn't speak due to extreme weakness. Instead, she have a nod.

"Good," remarked Dr. Fleming. "Can you speak?"

Hillary exerted so much energy to let her voice out. "Yes."

"Alright," said Dr. Fleming, satisfied. The other doctors scribbled furiously in their clipboards while the nurses took her vitals. 

"How do you feel, Madam Secretary?" asked Dr. Fleming. 

She tried to wince, and Dr. Fleming nodded, understanding her response. 

"I understand, Madam Secretary. My team will be back in a while to brief you about your medical condition. For the meantime, I'll invite your daughter and Congressman Bosworth here. Is that alright?"

The heartbeat monitor suddenly beeped, showing her heartbeat tick up.

Dr. Fleming chuckled. "Relax, Madam Secretary. We don't want to strain your heart, do we?"

Hillary could barely nod, if only not for her painful neck. Dr. Fleming and his team wrapped up their examination and then bid their goodbyes to Hillary. 

She felt a little less dizzy and a little more energized than when she woke up, but she was still far from her top form. She closed her eyes again and felt the urge to go back to a deep sleep.

She was so tired that within a few minutes, sleep had almost claimed her until she heard the door open.

The face of her daughter, the face she thought she would never see again, poured life back into her veins.

The heartbeat monitor ticked up again, the reading now showing 120.

"Oh Mom!" Chelsea hurried to her mother's side. Careful not to touch her injuries, she leaned down and hugged her mother as tightly as she could, tears streaming down her face.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Chelsea choked into sobs, "when you sent me that text message, I thought that's the last I'd hear from you. But here we are!"

"Oh Chels," Hillary coughed, surprised that she could speak easier now, but her speech was still labored. "I've never been so happy to see you, save for the moment you were born."

"Oh come on, Mom, That's cheesy," Chelsea pulled away to give her mother more space, and she wiped away her tears.

"It's the truth, Sweetheart," Hillary affirmed.

"Well, since we are all telling the truth now, I just want to say you're a hero, Mom. I've never been so proud of you. You're so brave and unflinching. Death stared you in the face and you beat Him!"

Hillary was so touched by her daughter's words that it was her turn to cry.

"Oh, no, no, no," Chelsea cupped her mother's face with her hands. No crying. Or at least, not for you," said Chelsea.

Hillary nodded, not in a mood to argue with her daughter.

"Are you hungry?" asked Chelsea, and Hillary nodded. The younger Rodham smiled and pinched Hillary's cheek. "I'll get some grub for you. For the meantime, I'll let Neil in, okay?"

Hillary smiled and mouthed her thanks. At the same time, she was surprised to find out that Neil was were too. 

"Hi Hill," a smiling Neil startled her as he opened the door and let himself inside. Neil Bosworth, a US congressman from Missouri and an aspiring Senate candidate, had been her lover and companion for well over a decade. She was grateful for his love and friendship. She had always felt special whenever she was beside him.

Except at that moment, when he was drowning in guilt. Surely, it would devastate him if he knew if she had slept with her husband and practically rekindled the fire they thought they had lost, even though they still remained adversaries at face value.

"Hey," she managed to respond. She plastered the most radiant smile she thought she could muster. Neil planted a kiss on her forehead. Usually, she felt all warm and fuzzy inside, but at that moment, she felt dirty and undeserving.

"My hero. My damn American hero," Neil touched her temple with the back of his finger. The more he showed her affection, the more she felt like filth. She wish she could just disintegrate and vanish. "I've just talked with President Obama. He asked about how you were and he told me how honored and humbled he was to serve alongside a hero like you."

Hillary could only give a sad smile, knowing that she didn't deserve any of those praises. Thankfully, Neil didn't notice a thing. "Thanks, Neil."

Neil's eyes brightened. "Good girl. People from the CIA, FBI and the NSC wanted to speak to you, but I told them to hold off your interview for a few days. You need to rest first."

"Thanks, Neil. You're the best." Fuck, why was Neil so inconveniently sweet and caring? If she could just tell him to fuck off and leave her alone so that she could feel guilty about cheating on him in peace.

As if he read her mind, Neil kissed her forehead again and bid his goodbye. "Rest now, Hill. You need to recover. I know you want to get back to DC as soon as possible so you need to rest as much as you can. Chelsea told me she'll be back with some food. For the meantime, I'll report your amazing recovery to the President. He'll be so pleased to hear you're awake now."

Hillary couldn't decide if she would burst into flames or disintegrate into dust with the way Neil was treating her: like a queen, when in fact she was a cheating scum. One more caring gesture and she would definitely chuck him out.

Neil patted her shoulder and left for the door, finally letting Hillary breathe easily coming from the stuffy atmosphere.

She might have only woken for a few minutes , but her brain was already working double time. She shoved her guilt aside and thought about the current situation at hand. She needed to know what was happening outside the walls of her room. She had left an international crisis hanging, and she needed to assess the damage she did. Surely, nobody would dare brief her about the situation, as everybody would insist that she rest.

Luckily, there was a TV in her suite, and remote control on her bedside table. She grabbed the remote control almost desperately and she turned the TV on to CNN. The first thing she saw was Wolf Blitzer reading the headline:

**US TO RETALIATE OVER SECY RODHAM HOSTAGE CRISIS**

Hillary felt her heart sank, her face white as sheet. This was exactly the situation she worked to avoid, and her plan to avert an escalation became a disaster.

She might be alive, but Hillary wasn't exactly thankful that she had lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm being a drag. I still have lots planned ahead yet but we're already in chapter 15. -_- Like...more flashbacks and chaos and angst and smut. Tell me if you think the pacing is slow. 
> 
> Like I said, this a beginning of Part II of Spoils. Expect a major escalation in the coming chapters, but not climax. The events will lead to something many of you are hoping for. 
> 
> I sound like a broken record but THANK YOU THANK YOU! Urgh. I didn't think this fic will go well with the audience but *sobs* *blows nose*. Words can't describe how happy I am to know that this fic makes you happy too!


	16. Covert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta

_**Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, June 24, 2009** _

"Okay, Mom. Open your mouth." Chelsea gently shot the spoonful of oatmeal into her mother's mouth as she sat beside her. They had been watching a re-run of The Today Show as they eat their breakfast. Hillary was given a bowl of oatmeal while Chelsea had some croissants, accompanied by a cup of hot coffee.

Hillary obediently gulped her oatmeal with a grimace. "Yuck. This is disgusting. I don't get why I'm being fed with this. I don't have diabetes or high blood pressure."

Chelsea chuckled. "It's what's on the daily menu, Mom. I asked the nurse when you were sleeping. I knew you wouldn't like it."

"Bleah," Hillary gagged. "Did you ask what's for tomorrow?"

"Eggs, toast and Jell-O."

"Oh thank God!"

Chelsea giggled more. "You're too funny, Mom. Am I bad if I wished you to never leave the hospital? I could live the comedy every day."

"Hey!" Hillary said in mock outrage. "Just wait until the roles are reversed. When you give birth, I swear, I'll video your every boo-boo and show it to your friends!"

Chelsea was horrified at her mother's evil plan, but she couldn't stop smiling.

"What? Why are you so happy?" Hillary asked, confused.

"Uhm...maybe it's the right time to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Uhm..." Chelsea's cheeks flushed punk.

Hillary was getting impatient. "Well? Is there something I need to know?"

Chelsea seemed to have regretted that slip, but there was no turning back now. "I guess that's probably be in the immediate future."

Hillary couldn't believe what she just had heard. "Are you serious, Honey?"

"Yeah," Chelsea was bashful, but she couldn't stop smiling. "I don't know if you'll be angry at me, but I'm so happy, Mom."

"Oh, Sweetie," Hillary opened her arms wide for a hug. "Why would I be angry? I'm thrilled!"

"Oh, Mom," Chelsea put the bowl of oatmeal aside and threw herself into her mother's arms. "I thought you'd get mad at me!"

"Why on Earth would I do that?" Hillary pulled back and cupped her daughter's cheek. "What does Marc say?"

Chelsea bit her lip. "He's so thrilled that he asked me to marry him."

The second news hit her like an anvil, but in a good way. 

"My baby girl is getting married," Hillary covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes getting misty. "And I'm going to be a grandma."

"Yes, Mom," Chelsea tucked her head on Hillary's shoulder. "

"How far are you along?"

"I haven't checked with the doctor yet, but I already missed two periods."

"Oh God, you're that far along already?" Hillary was shocked to learn.

"Yep. I didn't have much symptoms. No sickness. No spotting."

"Wow. Seems like your pregnancy is such a breeze. Unlike when I was carrying you." Hillary suddenly felt nostalgic.

Chelsea scooted closed to her Mom. "Would you like to tell me? I wanna hear all about it."

Feeling warm and giddy inside, Hillary straightened herself up in her bed, preparing to tell Chelsea the story she had yearned to tell her for years. It might not be the complete story, but she didn't have to tell everything.

There would be another time for that.

_**Executive Suite, Desmond Loiseau Memorial Medical Center, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 24** _ _**, 2009** _

John Podesta opened the door to find his boss Bill already sitting up and reading a bunch of briefing binders, his glassed perched on the bridge of his nose. John wasn't surprised by his boss's aversion to rest and relaxation. It's just that he was amazed to find Bill already up and about after sustaining serious injuries a few days ago. After all, Bill wasb't exactly a spring chicken. He was now sixty-two. Just for comparison, Desmond Loiseau died at seveny-two.

As he entered the room, John couldn't help but notice the bandage wrapped around Bill's hand.

Curious.

John gave Bill a stiff salute when he was right in front of the latter's bed. Bill reciprocated with a salute of his own and received more briefing papers from John. He lazily perused the first report immediately. .

"So," Bill said, his eyes on the report, "these are the findings on the prison break?" Bill wad referring to the breach of the prison and Stratenberg, allowing th US hostages to be freed, and the mysterious disappearance of Hillary, which to him was not so mysterious.

"Yes, Sir," John answered curtly. "In nutshell, the facility in Stratenberg needs upgrading. The CCTV's are poorly positioned. The US SEALs were able to immediately spot them and so they deactivated them by firing at them."

"Hmmmm," Bill continued to peruse the document, but he found the findings of the report inadequate. Indeed, the hidden cameras were easy to destroy, especially if the SEALs were well-equipped, but based on the description of the events, it seemed that the SEALs knew exactly where to look.

No doubt that the SEALS knew of the location of the cameras.

And that begged the question: Who provided the blueprint of the prison to the Americans?

Bill pretended to be satisfied by the findings of the report, when in fact it raised more questions than answers. But what had been bugging him so much was Hillary's disappearance. How did she end up in the US hands after he fell unconscious? And what was John doing when he bumped into him in prison? Was he trying to rescue Hillary on behalf of the US, or any other player?

Either way, John was not a man to be trusted. He better keep his cards close to his chest.

Bill was so deep into his thoughts that he forgot that there was another person in the room.

"Sir?" John tried to bring him back to reality.

Bill cleared his throat. "So, the US sent a rogue soldier in Aldenkirk to rescue the Secretary?"

"Precisely, Sir. They also had an aircraft ready. Just on the outskirts of Aldenkirk. They used an unmarked vehicle to smuggle Secretary Rodham out of prison and flew her out of Rodinia immediately. She's now in Ramstein in Germany, recovering."

Something in that story didn't feel right, and Bill couldn't point what it was. But then, he had no proof to the contrary, so he decided to let it go for now.

"Do you need anything, Sir? John's voice broke Bill's line of thought.

Bill shook his head and thanked him for the briefing papers. "Thank you, John. I'll just call for you if I need assistance."

John gave Bill a salute, to which the latter reciprocated. John quickly left the Bill's suite to attend to his other duties.

As John left, Bill couldn't help but notice the curious look he was giving his hand earlier. He had a nagging feeling that John had probably figured out that he was the one whom he had an encounter with Hillary. His line of thought didn't assuage the already growing distrust he had of his aide-de-camp. He couldn't simple charge him with treason for what he did, for he would be caught up in his own crimes too. Even if he had the executive powers to overrule the law, that still wouldn't be politically beneficial for him. 

But lucky for Bill, he was gifted with a cunning mind.  
If he couldn't score a victory over the US Secretary of State, then he would go for the next best thing.

Bill drew the pair of crumpled letters under his pillow and reread the one designated for him.

He'd be damned if couldn't pull this off.

**_J. Edgar Hoover Building, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D.C., June 29, 2009_ **

The staff of the FBI counterintelligence division gathered around when the preserved evidence from the forensics lab had arrived at their office. Along with the evidence, stored in tightly sealed vacuum bags and contained inside a box, was a brief report tucked in a manila envelope.

The report was immediately perused by the chief of the counterintelligence division, Frank Figliuzzi. The rest of the FBI counterintelligence staff were looking at the pieces of evidence and checking their inventory.

Figliuzzi quietly slipped away from his busy colleagues as he read the report with a strained look at his face. He could not believe what he was reading so he sat of his chair and continued reading the report privately.

> _We can say with high confidence that the blood found in the ring in Secretary Rodham's hand belongs to William Jefferson Clinton, the Supreme Leader of Rodinia._
> 
> _Furthermore, the semen stain found in Secretary Rodham's prison uniform belonged to Clinton. This suggests that he had engaged in sexual activity with Secretary Rodham. However, the FBI cannot be say whether she was forced or not._

Figliuzzi could not believe the contents of this report. This...this looked like it was taken straight from a thriller novel. He would have asked for a re-run of the tests if he didn't believe in the competence of the people in forensics. But, there he was. There was no way these guys were going to sign off with this report if they hadn't got high confidence in it.

So, it was him who was losing confidence. What should he do? In all his years in the FBI, Figliuzzi had not seen anything like this. Furthermore, this report could cause an international scandal.

Frank grabbed the phone and asked for enlightenment.

"Hi. This is Frank. Yeah, I wish to talk to the Director please...please tell him it's top secret. I wish to discuss this in person..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys are curious what happened to the ring. Don't worry, Hillary will have it soon.
> 
> And sorry for the late upload huhuhu. This has been a stressful week. It seems the universe knows I will have a vacation and it dumps all the work all at once. LOL
> 
> Hopefully I can finish Part II of Spoils before I leave for vacation. ^_^


	17. Fleeting Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Not much plot in here

**_Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, Germany, July 2, 2009_ **

Hillary lay asleep in her bed for fifteen hours now, with Neil steadfast in her side. Chelsea had to go home to Pennsylvania for a couple of days to meet with Marc’s mom, so Neil had volunteered to stay with Hillary while Chelsea was away. He had filed a leave from Congress to take care of Hillary until she comes back to the US. Even he was gone, he was still in constant communication with his staff and colleagues on Capitol Hill, reading bills and exchanging emails in his laptop as he dutifully sat beside Hillary.

After hours of poring over the latest draft of the healthcare bill the Democrats wanted to pass, his eyes finally felt the first signs of exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes and then turned his head to have a good look at his lover. All of sudden, the exhaustion was gone. Her serene face was the boost he needed, and he felt like he had drunk an elixir. He smiled at her, and caressed her hand, rubbing the back of her IV-struck hand with his thumb. He could do this forever, just watching her and adoring her in silence.

However, his time was cut short when he heard his cellphone ring. And when he looked at the caller ID, it was a great surprise to see President Obama’s number on the phone.

“Hello. Congressman Neil Bosworth speaking,” he opened with a businesslike tone.

“Hello, it’s me, Barack Obama,” said Obama on the other line.

“Good to hear from you, Neil.”

Neil quickly folded his laptop and stood away from Hillary so as not to wake her up. “The same goes for you, Mr. President. Up against the wall, are we?”

“You bet, Neil. The Republicans boxed us up good. But we can do this, we can do this,” Obama assured him. “Say, are you with Hillary right now?”

Neil looked back at Hillary and as if on cue, she began to shift on her bed. “Yes, Mr. President. I took a leave of absence to be with her until she recuperates.”

“So I am told. I hope that arrangement will work well for both of you. How is she?”

Hillary was slowly waking up from her deep sleep, stretching her limbs in every direction.

“She’s doing fine. She still sleeps a lot, like twelve to fifteen hours a day, but that’s to be expected. Other than that, she’s recovering really well. Her arm is healing well too.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Obama, the sincerity evident in his voice. “Say, would you mind if I talk to Hillary?”

“Let me see if she can, Mr. President. Can I hold you for a sec?”

“Sure. Thanks, Neil.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Neil put the call on hold and approached Hillary, who was now awake but not yet fully so. Neil leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on her nose, which made her scrunch her face a bit.

“Good morning, Hill,” he whispered.

“Good morning, Neil,” she replied, her voice still thick with sleep.

“I have someone for you over the phone,” he said.

She yawned dreamily. “Hmmm? Who is it?”

“President Obama,” he quietly replied. “Can you take the call?”

“Oh yeah, sure, sure. Let me speak with him, thanks.” Any hint of sleep in her voice was gone. She, aided by Neil, quickly sat up in her bed and cleared her throat.

Neil handed her the phone and she immediately said, “Hello, Mr. President?”

“Ah! Hillary! It’s so great to hear your voice again!” Obama cheered on the other end of the line.

“And same to you, Mr. President. I didn’t think I’d hear your voice again,” she confessed.

“We thought we’re going to lose you but thank God things have worked quite brilliantly in the end. How are you feeling?”

“Still quite exhausted, Sir. The doctor says I may have to take at least two months to recover. My arm was badly injured, and while I do not need therapy for it, I am not exactly a spring chicken, Mr. President.”

“Is that so? Well then, you should follow that the doctor says. Rest and relieve yourself from the stress of being in the grind.”

As much as she wanted to, the aftermath of the episode in Rodinia still continued to weigh in on her, so she decided to tell her concerns to her boss.

“Mr. President,” she sighed, “I am happy to hear that I have your support, but given the circumstances, I think a change in leadership is in order."

Hillary had contemplated resigning from State for days now. Her husband certainly had her compromised, and she could not allow her personal feelings for America's number one adversary threaten the country's national security.

And not to mention, she could potentially ruin Neil's brilliant career.

“Oh, nonsense," Obama dismissed her concerns. "America needs you, Hillary, now more than ever. You have demonstrated what America stands for in front of our adversaries. Literally. And that will definitely ripple across the world."

Hillary bit her lip, not sure what to think of that President Obama just said. But she didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong. Nobody could do that to the leader of the free world.

“Relax, Hillary,” Obama urged her. “Take all the time you need. Rest. Recover. Spend time with your family and friends. Take this call as my permission for you to take an indefinite leave. And when you’re back in your top form, I’d be happily expecting you at the Oval for our usual meetings. How does that sound?”

There was still a small part of Hillary who was refusing to accept Obama's turn and still insist on an outright resignation, but gradually, logic took over her. It would have been disastrous on many fronts if she abruptly resigned after this apparent victory of the United States. This would send a message to their allies and enemies about the US's abandonment of its duty in thr world stage, and it would hand her husband a significant victory in the fight for public opinion.

“Thank you very much, Mr. President,” she said, letting some of the guilt flow out of her body. “I am very grateful for your consideration.”

"This is just the small thing that I can do on behalf of a grateful nation,” Obama said. Hillary bit her lip again. She didn’t deserve the praise from him or from anybody, but hearing the President praise you weighed a ton more in her conscience because his words carry the sentiment of the American people.

Maybe she needed some time to cool off, some time to think, and this leave would be perfect for her, and then if ever, she could properly ask for her resignation.

Hillary bid goodbye to the President. She couldn’t help but notice that Neil was scanning her.

“You’re thinking something,” said Neil, sitting beside her. "Something’s bothering you.”

“I do not see the need nor the upside of lying to you, so I am going to say yes,” she sighed, “but I wouldn’t tell you what it is about. For now.”

“Was it about the ordeal that you had experienced?” he asked, deeply concerned.

“Yes,” Hillary admitted.

“Was it trauma?”

Hillary shook her head. “I don’t think so. Granted, I probably need stress debriefing, but I think my concerns have nothing to do with trauma. I have prepared myself to die out there even though I was afraid, and the acceptance softened the blow of the trauma somehow. It’s just that…” Hillary paused, deciding whether to tell Neil, but in the end, she decided to let him in on her secret, at least on vague terms. “My past in Rodinia came rushing back, and Clinton used it to his advantage to get to me.”

Neil struggled to understand the picture, but nodded all the same. He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her with his warmth.

“Hey, you don’t have to deal with this now,” he comforted her.

“Clear your head and then think it through. I know you will choose what’s best for you and for the country. But for the meantime, let’s enjoy the free time that we have.”

Hillary smiled at Neil, successfully masking her sadness and guilt for dumping him like a hot potato the moment her despot of a husband touched her. That too, she would have to push away. No guilt. No conflict. No stress while she was on leave.

She wished it could be that easy.

_**Carl’s World Famous Cheesesteaks, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, July 2, 2009** _

Chelsea took a bite of cheesesteak as she received her change from the cashier at Carl’s World Famous Cheesesteaks in the streets of Philly. She and Marc were staying in Philly for a couple of days before driving home to his Mom’s house to formally announce their engagement. Marc didn’t want to take Chelsea away from her mother but his mother, Marjorie, was supposed to leave for Europe to lecture for a few months before going back to the States in the next summer. Marc and Chelsea were hoping to personally Marjorie the news.

Chelsea had her cheesesteak to go, but before she left the store, she couldn’t help but notice a group of people huddled around the TV above the counter, watching CNN.

_This just in: The White House had just announced that President Obama had called Secretary Rodham on the phone in Ramstein Air Base where she was recovering. However, the White House refused to elaborate on the details of the call, saying that developments will be roll out in the next few days. This comes in the heels of the miraculous rescue of Secretary Rodham and several State Department officials following the hostage crisis in Rodinia, which was committed by the Rodinian government._

Chelsea turned around and squeezed herself into the audience, yearning to hear more from the news report.

_According to sources who spoke under anonymity, it is said that President Obama had given Secretary Rodham an indefinite leave of absence for her to recover from the injuries and psychological trauma._

Chelsea blinked. This was the first time she had heard of it. When she had spoken with her yesterday, her mother made no mention of such call or of the indefinite leave of absence, so she had cast serious doubts on the report.

“Rodham’s got balls, if you ask me,” said a man who was chugging a cup of coffee. “She could certainly teach those Washington wimps a lesson on manning up. Or rather, womanning up.”

Chelsea turned her head to look for the gracious soul who spoke highly of her mother.

“And Clinton…Clinton’s a bitch. That guy is afraid of anyone disagreeing with him. Which is weird because he’s the best goddamned speaker I’ve heard in decades. He can tell you to eat your own shit and he’d sound very persuasive. I wonder what happened to that guy.”

Chelsea became more and more curious about the man. He was singing praised about her mother, and certainly he knew a lot about Rodinia, just like her mother.

“Excuse me,” Chelsea said sheepishly, “you seem like you know a lot about Rodinia.”

“Well of course!” exclaimed the man. “I lived there! I escaped that hellhole and then I ended up on another hellhole called Scranton!”

“Oh!” Chelsea gasped in disbelief. “Were you a refugee?”

“I am! Me and my family got out early on, when that son of a bitch Loiseau still ran the place.”

“Wow. My mother is too,” Chelsea felt an immediate affinity with the man.

“Of course your mother is. She’s the most famous Rodinian refugee in the planet!”

Chelsea was stunned to learn that this man knew who she was. “How did you…?”

“Relax, kid. I saw you in your mother’s confirmation hearings,” the man chuckled. “My name’s Lanny Davis,” Lanny extended his hand to her for a handshake. Chelsea took it and shook his hand. “Citizen of Lovensdorf, Rodinia. Or rather, ex-citizen.”  
“My name is Chelsea, and I’ve never met another Rodinian refugee before.” Chelsea barely managed to string the words, overwhelmed by this incredible meeting of chance.

“Well, now you have,” chuckled Lanny. “I am honored to meet Secretary Rodham’s daughter. Your Mom is a real hero and true patriot, by the way. Both Rodinian, and American. Proud to call her a compatriot.”

Chelsea was touched by Lanny’s words, and she couldn’t help but let her tears fall. Lanny was the first member of the public whom she had heard express his gratitude to her Mom.

“Oh, no, no. No crying, young lady,” Lanny said.

Chelsea wiped her tears. “You’re right. I’m such a mess.”

“Hey, don’t be,” assured Lanny. “Say, it’s amazing to meet another Rodinian far away from home. Why don’t we exchange business cards?”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t have one.”

Lanny was a bit disappointed, but he quickly picked himself up. “Take mine then.”

“Thank you,” said Chelsea. “I’m in Philly for a couple of days but I’ll call you when I’m back in DC.”

“Oh, no pressure,” Lanny waved his hand. “Just happy to see a fellow Rodinian!”

Chelsea giggled, clearly amused by this jovial man. She turned around and saw Marc was already waiting for her outside the shop.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. My fiancé is already waiting for me outside,” she apologized.

“Ooooh, it’s the beau calling. You go get your man and I’ll be here rooting for you and your mother.”

“Thank you, Lanny. I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

“Bye!”

Chelsea tucked Lanny’s business card in her pocket, certain that she would one day dialing his number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, I'll try to squeeze in updates more frequently before I leave for vacation. And I can't wait to finally get out and relax!
> 
> If you're gonna see Hillary in Melbourne, hmu! Would love to meet you guys!


	18. Brutal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a new update!

_**Government Complex Plaza, City of Aldenkirk, July 4, 2009** _

Bill's return to the capital from his recovery was welcomed with a rousing parade. Thousands of citizens had descended to the plaza to witness the return of their Supreme Leader. The Information Ministry had touted Bill's heroic defense of his sovereign from the hands of the imperialist Americans, rather than the bungled response to the covert rescue mission to save the State Department hostages, most notably Hillary Rodham. Reporting the truth to the citizens would sow seeds of discord, thus threatening the nation's solidarity, and Bill could not have that happen. However, they did tout Hillary's guilty plea and subsequent verdict, this affirming her as Rodinia's Public Enemy Number One.

Even though Bill was used to the Information Ministry covering up for his failures and always making him look good in front of his people, he had always felt a small twinge of guilt for receiving praises he didn't deserve. He felt like Hillary was frowning on him behind his back. Up until this day, she was still the face of his conscience that he could never 

In all honesty, Bill wanted to become a good leader for his people. He wanted what was good for them. However, with all the external forces, most notable the United States, threatening to rip his country apart, he had to shield his people from all of them. That was why he had to overthrow Loiseau, who had begun talking to the United States secretly in 2001. He could not have him make a deal with the Americans and intervened at a moment's notice.

Bill, riding on top of a military tank, smiled and waved at his adoring people. Banners of "THANK GOD FOR CLINTON" and "CLINTON SAVED US ONCE AGAIN" stood out among the crowd. Rows of dancing schoolchildren welcomed him in the plaza. Once the tank had stopped in the middle, he alighted the tank and received a bouquet of flowers from one of the children. He ruffled the child's hair, and he was met by a chorus of "awwwwww".

Odd as it might sound, but in Rodinia, Bill was one of the most eligible bachelors sought after by women. Of course, none of them have openly voiced their desire for the Supreme Leader. Indeed, he was very good looking, and the Ministry of Information had capitalized on his charm and likeability to maintain the people’s loyalty to him.

To any other observer, this would have been nuts, especially to the eyes of the West. Classic authoritarian tactics. Loyalty to the leader instead of country.

But today, it would be the other way around. Bill would not allow the US to regain the upper hand in their fight for sovereignty. After the US announced further sanctions on Rodinia, he would not allow these to go unpunished.

Bill went up to the podium and waved to the cheering crowd. A raise of his hand silenced the thousands of spectators, who were now eager to listen to his speech.

“Fellow Rodinians,” his voiced boomed across the plaza, “it is my honor today to stand in front of you. After battling with the evil imperialists, God saw me fit to return to you to serve as our Supreme Leader. It is humbling to be in this podium and represent all of you, in front of our allies and our enemies.”

The crowd roared and cheered. This was unsurprising, given he was universally adored in Rodinia, like a rock star in a concert of adoring fans.

“Today is the Day of Independence in the United States. Today, every American is celebrating their sovereignty, or should I say, their imperialism,” Bill told the crowd scathingly. “The rest of the world could not simply stand and watch the United States destroy their hard-fought sovereignty. It is true that colonialism had ended, but what replaced it with worse: imperialism.

More cheers and applause from the crowd.

“America had always deluded itself by its exceptionalism, and it was their license to overpower us. Led by Barack Obama and traitor Hillary Rodham, the United States once again sought to conquer us a few days, by violating our territorial rights and attempting to claim our lands as their own.”

Boos and hisses from the crowed. Somehow, Bill could feel Hillary was raising an eyebrow at him from afar. It made him a little uncomfortable, but he soldiered on.

“As Americans celebrate, we too shall, because today, I announce the expulsion of all American citizens, including diplomats, from our beloved country. It is time that we get rid of filth that had been poisoning our nation for so long. We will not allow them to destroy your society anymore."

He was met with more cheers, the public pinning at his every word.

“Let us all safeguard our sovereignty against the imperialists, for nobody can defend our freedom other than ourselves. God bless you and our beloved country!”

The entire plaza went wild with energized roars and applause. As Bill basked in the adoration of his citizens, he had noticed something that he had not before when he went up the stage.

His aide-de-camp was nowhere to be found.

**_Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, July 4, 2009_ **

“Hey, Baby. I’m going home and I’ll be back after two days,” Neil kissed Hillary’s forehead as he prepared to leave her for DC.

“Pop Tarts and apples,” Hillary requested.

Neil chuckled, finding her cravings adorable. “Alright. Apples and Pop Tarts.”

“And cheesecake too, please,” she batted her eyelashes.

“Alright, alright. Since you’re in the hospital, you can get all the treats that you want.” Neil pinched her cheek.

“Yay!” Hillary exclaimed with the tone of an overexcited kid.

“Now behave, my baby girl. Don’t move around too much and always ask for the nurse. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Hillary smiled.

“Then I’ll be going now,” he said, “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive in DC. Okay?”

“Okay. See you in two days, Honey.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

When Neil was at the door, he gave Hillary once last glimpse through the small window and left for the tarmac. He hated when he had to leave Hillary for DC. He wanted to file a longer leave of absence but he could not just abandon his constituents who were relying on him. He could not even cite her condition as a family emergency because he wasn’t married to her, a frustration of his that lasted ever since they were dating. He had always known that Hillary had been married, but the identity of her husband remained unknown to him.

Until recently.

Once Neil was in the tarmac of the air base, he pulled out his phone from his pocket to make a call. After three rings, someone from the other line had answered.

“Hello, this is Tom Donilon.”

“Oh hey, Tom!” Neil replied. “It’s Neil.”

“Hey. Are you still in Ramstein?”

“Yes, I am about to leave now. Any developments?”

“Clinton expelled all American citizens in Rodinia,” said Tom.

“Yeah, we saw it on TV,” Neil stated.

“How is Hillary taking all of this?” Tom asked.

“She’s pretty much the same old Hillary, except that she tenses up a bit whenever Clinton is injected into the conversation, but I think that’s to be expected. I mean, the trauma and all.”

Neil heard a sigh from the other line, and he did not like it at all.

“Is there a problem?” asked Neil, concerned.

“You may not like what I am going to say to you, so I need to brace yourself for this.”

“Okay?” Neil said cautiously.

“Our spies in Rodinia caught Hillary and Clinton having sex in prison,” Tom said with the heaviest heart.

Neil’s world quietly shattered around him, his tear falling unchecked, He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, barely managing to stand up straight. His body was shaking, and his heart felt like it was stabbed by a knife.

“Neil? Are you still on the line?” asked a worried Tom.

“I’m sorry,” Neil cleared his throat, almost choking. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” apologized Tom.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll probably find out about it somehow,” Neil said, shaken.

“I can give you some time to process the news. I’ll call later…”

“No, no. Go on. I want to hear the other updates,” Neil insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Tom sighed. “Alright. Now, the FBI had gotten hold of Hillary’s dress and they affirmed that Clinton had sexual intercourse with Hillary. They’re just not sure if it was consensual or not.”

“But is it?”

“Sadly, yes. But I guess that’s better than her being raped. We don’t want that.”

“Of course, not at all…”

“I know it’s painful, but at least she’d unharmed,” said Tom. Either way, it was devastating for Neil. Either Hillary was raped, or Hillary cheated on him. He disliked both scenarios, but he would be more devastated if it was the former. He would probably have not controlled his rage and flew straight to Rodinia to kill Clinton himself.

Neil sighed again.

“I’m really sorry that you had to hear all of this. I debated whether to tell you or not, but I figured it would find its way into you somehow. I better get you prepared,” said Tom.

“No, no. You did the right thing,” said Neil. “And you’re right. It’s better if it came from you.”

“I am glad,” said Tom. “There is something else you must know as well.”

“What is it?”

“What we believe is Clinton’s wedding ring was found in Hillary’s hand. Did she mention anything to you about that?”

Neil scrunched his forehead. “No, she didn’t mention anything. Maybe she didn’t know? Or it faded from her memory?”

“It is certainly possible, given the trauma she’s been. I just want to ask for your opinion if we should return it.”

The green monster inside Neil sprang up to life. “No, keep it. We don’t want to remind her of that son of a bitch. He hurt her enough.”

“I’m glad you said that. Frankly, I didn’t want to either,” agreed Tom. “Just keep tabs on her, alright? We barely averted a disaster. Hillary’s heroic display almost cost us a war with a nation with nuclear arsenal. I mean, sure, she’s brave, but that was a stupid move.”

Neil felt a little annoyed at Tom for insulting Hillary like that. But he wanted to hear more. “Why?”

“We think Clinton wants her, not just for her to surrender the US foreign policy. He’s thinking with his dick when he did those things. And lo and behold, he got what he wanted.”

Tom’s crassness didn’t bode well with Neil, so the latter decided to fake an excuse to get out of the call.

“Alright. Listen, I’m about to board the plane. We’ll talk back in DC.”

“Sure. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”

Neil shut his phone with a heavy heart, but somehow, he had known this day would come.

No matter what he did, he could never replace Bill Clinton’s place in her heart.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this. And sorry not much Hillary in this update. As I've said before, Part II is more of a character development for Bill.
> 
> So far, Bill expelled all Americans from Rodinia as retaliation for the new sanctions. The ball is now on Obama's court to hoodwink Bill. 
> 
> And the US has no SoS at the moment. Welp.


	19. Recollection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter. I should really get back to bed LOL

**_Ministry of Justice, Government Complex,_ ** **_Aldenkirk, Rodinia, December 23, 1976_ **

"Are you sure you don't want me to fetch you, Honey? It's freezing outside," Bill asked Hillary over the phone as he leaned on his chair and rested his feet over his desk, worried that snow would bury her alive in the darkness. Bill was alone in the office, so he was at liberty to relax in his desk.

"I'm good, Baby. I don't think I'll be home by ten," said Hillary from the other end of the line, sounding disappointed. "Hawthorne's attorney is such an asshole"

Bill chuckled. "Aren't we all? I mean, everyone of us in this profession?"

"Hey, to be fair, you like mine," Hillary's voice suddenly became low and husky.

Bill felt the beginnings of an erection, and he didn't want to walk around with a hard-on.

"No, not here, Honey. Not now. Maybe later?"

He heard Hillary gulp on the line. "Alright. Now I have something to look forward to later."

"Finish that case already so we can get started at home!" Bill demanded impatiently.

Hillary giggled flirtatiously. "Alright, Mr. Impatient. What time will you be going home?"

"I'll leave by 10 so I'll probably home by 10:30," he replied.

"Alright, Baby. Don't wait for me for dinner. You can just reheat the leftovers."

"I'll just wait for you in our bed then," he smirked.

"Sure. Just better be...prepared."

"Oh I will be."

"Alright. I look forward to it then," she said, her voice thick with desire.

"I'll see you later. Bye Baby."

"Bye."

Bill put the phone down and arranged the stack of papers in front of him. He would just need to read halfway through the case file he had been working on and then he could go home. As the clock ticked closer and closer to 10PM, the pile of his pending papers thinned until he was almost left with nothing.

He looked at the clock again. It was just a quarter until 10.

He thought that he was alone, but apparently, he was wrong.

"Hi Bill," said the voice of Amy, Bill's associate, her head poking through the door. Bill almost fell off his seat when she startled him.

"Oh, hey Amy," Bill discarded the papers on his desk and stood up to greet her, his hands on his pockets.

"I was just leaving and I thought I'd drop by. How about you?" she asked.

"I'm still working on the Gregory case," he pointed to the stack of papers in his desk. "Not really urgent, but I just want to get it gone before I go on leave for the holidays."

"Wow, such a hardworking man," Amy teased, her eyes travelling towards his crotch, which still had remnants of his arousal earlier, licking her lips while doing so.

Bill felt his cheeks burn hot. He had always been weak for Amy's advances. Not that there was anything serious between them anyway. They both were in a relationship, and this - whatever what was going on between them - was purely fun. 

"I miss you," Amy pawed Bill's chest.

Bill couldn't respond to her last words, with his guilt prevent him from doing so. He had just promised Hillary a good time tonight and here he was, treading in dangerous waters with another woman.

Amy cupped his growing erection, making him jump.

“Hmmmm, you missed me too, didn’t you?”

“I…” was all Bill could muster. He couldn’t tell if it was because her presence left him speechless, or because he didn’t want to encourage her.

“Speechless, are we? What do you say we fool around a bit? I’m lonely. My boyfriend is studying in England. I can’t wait that long,” Amy nibbled Bills ear, which caused a groan to escape from his lips.

“Amy…” Bill’s restraint was slipping.

"That's it, Bill," she coaxed. Bill felt his hardness grow as she licked and nibbled his neck. She knew her way around his body, and each touch made him want and want to just forget about his promise to Hillary and live in the moment. But that last remnant of guilt wouldn't go away, keeping his resolve alive.

"Bill?"

It wasn't Amy's voice that called him. It was the voice of a heartbroken Hillary, standing ten feet away from them, that broke the moment. She was in her coat, still shivering from the cold, her eyes already shining with unshed tears.

Bill felt like a total ass.

"Hilly..." Bill gently pushed Amy, who was straightening her dress, aside and he approached her, hoping she wouldn't run.

"I thought I'd surprise you," said Hilllary. She had come to his office wearing the thong he liked to have on her, hoping that he would love her surprise. "But it seem I was the one who was surprised."

"Baby," he pleaded, "I'm sorry. This is nothing."

"Yeah, I am sure it's nothing," she sniffed, stepping back from him. Hillary tried to believe what he was trying to say, but she,understandably, had a hard time doing so.

"Hilly, I'm really sorry", he grabbed her hand and caressed it, but she pulled it away.

"It's okay. I'll just...I'm gonna sleep at Sara's". Sara was her partner at the firm.

"Baby, no...I'll move out for the night..." Fuck. Even if Hillary was completely devastated, she still looked after him.

"It's okay. Keep the door locked," Hillary sniffed again, this time barely controlling her tears.

"Hillary..." he called unto her, but she kept walking...

"I'll see you in the morning," Hillary sobbed as she left the building, her shoulders down, looking utterly devastated.

Bill wanted to run towards, to stop her from leaving, but his legs felt heavy as lead as the earth was telling him to leave her be, to give her the space she needed.

At that moment, something clicked inside Bill's head.

He loved her, but he didn't love her well.

**_Horizons_ ** **_**_H_ ** _ ** **_otel, Bermuda, May 15, 1979_ **

Bill and Hillary watched their luggage be pulled by the bellboy to their suite inside their hotel. They managed to endure a rough flight from Aldenkirk to Bermuda, with so many headaches along the way. The airline overbooked their flight and they had to be bumped off to the next flight which was going to fly the next day, and they had already reserved their hotel rooms. Bill had to make several calls to the hotel to make proper arrangements. After several shouting matches with the ground staff, Bill managed to get the airline to give them air miles for the disturbance that they had caused.

Once they landed in Bermuda, the travel from the airport to the hotel wasn't smooth either. Because their arrival date had been changed, the hotel wasn't able to properly book a car that would take them from the airport to the hotel. Bill had to call the hotel again only to find out that they had no cars available and they had to hail a cab. With no other choice left, Bill was forced to hail a cab for them and endured that painful journey from the airport to the Horizons.

Once their luggage were properly arranged by the bellboy, Bill have gave him a tip. Hillary, on the other hand, was too exhausted to worry about anything else that she walked towards the bed like a zombie and dived into it, bouncing in the mattress as she did so.

Poor Hillary, he thought. The trip was his idea. A surprise, actually. He shocked her a few days ago with plane tickets to Bermuda and a reservation to Horizons Hotel. She didn’t want to go, but a good convincing from Bill (“When was the last time he had a vacation?”) changed her mind.

Once Hillary was on the bed, she looked like she was going to fall asleep. But Bill was having none of it.

“Baby,” Bill gently tapped her shoulder.

“Five minutes,” she said.

“Honey, we have dinner reservation at the restaurant.”

“Why must you be prepared for everything,” she mumbled grumpily, her voice muffled by the mattress.

Bill couldn’t help but chuckle. That’s rich, coming from this Girl Scout. “Because you deserve to be treated like a Queen.” He rubbed her back lovingly, releasing the tension in her muscles.

“Wow, that’s great,” she moaned. “Keep it going, Billy.”

“You like it?” He pressed further.

“Hmmmmm,” was her reply, and he took it as an astounding yes.   
As he massaged her, he found her clothes to be too obstructive. They had to go. All of them. So he pulled his shirt up her waist. Hillary realized what he was trying to do and pulled her shirt all the way out. His hands quickly found her bra and unhooked it.  She then discarded it and threw it into the floor.

Bill hurried to the bathroom to get some lotion and quickly came back to the bedroom. He poured a little amount of lotion into his hands and spread it all over her back, pressing his hands deliciously. He was rewarded with a soft purr, and that erotic sound sent signals straight to his crotch.

He wanted better access to her back so he settled behind her, his legs sandwiching her hips. His erection rested directly on her buttocks, and Bill couldn’t help but grind behind her. She wiggled a bit, allowing him to go on.

For while, Bill maintained a steady pressure on her back, relieving her of the stress that had accumulated on her, most recently of which was the negative pregnancy test result a few weeks ago, when she thought she was certain she was pregnant when her period was delayed for three days already.

Her period came in the fourth day.

Bill could tell that she was disappointed no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. Of course he knew. She was an open book to him. There was nothing in her that he wouldn't know. He took it upon himself to take care of her, especially after their almost divorce in '76, when she decided to give him his last chance, and he was determined not to screw things up.

And indeed, he was living up to his promise. He was more open to her (if that was even possible), and she, in time, had trusted him back. But she too had a commitment to them: she wanted them to finally have a baby. Bill thought she thinks he must have done what he did in '76 because they couldn't have a baby for the longest time, and they were attending baptisms of their friends' children left and right. She took it upon herself to ensure that they too would have a baby someday, and Bill knew she was blaming herself as to why they were childless up to that day.

And that was why he brought her to Bermuda. After seeing her devastation, he thought of freeing her from the pressure of pregnancy. He immediately called the airline company to book tickets and the Horizons Hotel for a reservation. He wanted a stress-free vacation: just the two of them enjoying each other's company, without the pressures of work and child-rearing.

Bill, still straddling her, realized that she was slowly drifting into sleep again, and so he jolted her back into consciousness by leaning over and planting soft kisses on her neck and shoulder. He apparently hit a ticklish spot, she jerked her shoulder, eliciting a soft giggle.

"That tickles, Billy," she said.

Bill simply smiled against her skin, as his hands rubbed her back still. Whent he lotion had dried, his mouth covered the expanse of her back, his eyes feasting on her creamy skin. When his lips touched her lower back, just above her buttocks, she instinctively thrusted back, making him smirk.

He thought she was ready, so he unmounted her and pulled the rest of her clothes away. From what he could tell from his point of view, she was already glistening from arousal, more than ready for their love making, but he was determined to make this as good as it can get for her.

Bill straddled her again, this time, his clothes were off too. His erection was now pressing against her ass without constraints. She squirmed when his hardness touched her skin. He groaned at the immediate contact. His slow burn paid off really well.

He was intent to keep the fan the flames as a slow, steady pace so he inserted his hand between them and cupped her sopping mound ever so lightly as he planted more kisses on her back, fighting every urge to suck her skin. His fingers ever so tentatively touched her pussy lips, while his cock stirred behind her in jealousy. 

When Bill pushed his middle finger slowly inside her, she tensed and stilled before he could bury the very tip. She squirmed below him, and for a while, he thought it was just a reaction to his fingering, but he was surprised when she turned around and pushed him away gently.

"Bill, stop," she said.

"Why?" he asked, confounded.

"I can't do this," she pulled herself up into a sitting position, hugging her knees close to her chest.

"Why not?"

She looked away. "I know why you invited me here. You want us to concentrate on making a baby so you booked this hotel so that we can fuck away unimpeded." She was fighting not to let herself choke. "I'm not stupid. I know what's going to happen. And when we go back to Aldenkirk, I'm going to take a pregnancy test and I'm going to be disappointed yet again. I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, Bill. We could fuck each other senselessly at home and I would still be disappointed. And that would have been much cheaper than this."

"Oh Baby, no." He turned her head towards him so that she's facing him. "I made us came here because it's been a while since we really touched each other. When was the last time we really made love? Without the baby hanging over our heads when we did it? Ever since '76, we've been that way. And for once, I want us to lose ourselves in the moment like when we were dating. I want us to make love. Really make love. Have you missed that feeling?"

Hillary simply looked at him imploringly, and Bill thought the answer to his question was yes.

"Come here," he scooted over her and wrapper her around with his arms. "I want you to know that Iove you very much. And I was an asshole in '76 for fooling around. I never realized how much you meant to me until I saw you devastated that night in '76. You were crying, and I felt like a total piece of shit. It wasn't the baby that made me stray. It was I that made me stray. I am an adult, Hilly, and I should take responsibility of where I put my penis in."

His last quip made her giggle. Bill felt her relax in his arms.

"So, I want you to just enjoy this vacation," he encouraged her. "We're gonna make love over and over, I can promise that. This all of this fucking yields baby, then great. If not, then I still had the privilege of sharing this experience with you."

Touched by his assurances, and aroused by his hand pinching her nipple, she breathed hard and whispered before she devoured his mouth with hers.

"Make love to me, Billy."

_**Bill Clinton's Private Residence, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, June 21, 1999** _

Bill simply stared at the ceiling, his back flatly pressed against his bed, this limbs splayed all over like the Vitruvian Man. He recalled the events in their lives that had led to them decide to make her leave Rodinia to raise their child elsewhere. Their love at first sight at law school. Dating and impromptu wedding. His fooling around in '76. Their struggle to make a baby. And finally, that glorious day when it was revealed to them that she was pregnant. It made no sense to him at all why Hillary accepted that lowlife of a congressman as her lover, after he had intentionally revealed to her that he was alive almost three years ago. It truly made no sense. He did nothing after '76 that he thought was inappropriate. He went home immediately after work. He flatly rejected his colleagues' advances. He had always showered her with love and affection. So what gives?

When Bill first heard that she was seeing this Neil Bosworth, he couldn't believe it. No. This was not the Hillary he knew. The Hillary he knew was loyal to him. She would never have gone to another man if she knew he was alive, and he knew for a fact that she did. Then he raged at her. He wanted to fly to the US and demand an answer, but he knew that was never going to happen, especially thay the Loiseau regime was never going to let his identity be known to the US, despite him having leaked to the US intelligence of his existence to let his wife know he was alive.

After that, he decided to try to understand her first. Maybe she had a good reason to, and he shouldn't be selfish about it.

And that's how he ended up staring the ceiling in his bedroom.

But this exercise kept him up at night for weeks. From the intel he was receiving, he couldn't piece together why she did it. The most probable answer he had in his mind for quiteawhile now was she was trying to get him back for betraying their ideals. He knew early on that she would disapprove of his ideals, but he thought it wasn't enough for her to separate herself away from him.

So what was it?

A singular voice inside his head gave him a possible answer.

Maybe their daughter needed a father.

He had been a good husband, but not a very good father. He had realized that early on, that he had left her with the responsbility of being their daughter's mother and father, but he had no choice. He did his part to ensure they would have a better future elsewhere. While he knew he had done his part well,  he couldn't help but think of himself as a failure of being a father. He had a child thousands of miles away, whom he had never hugged, thought baseball to or helped her homework with.

He longed to see his daughter someday, although that would never happen. It broke his heart to realize that cruel reality. He could only settle with pictures taken by hidden cameras and some obscure footage of her, but never seeing her in the flesh.

With a singular tear flowing through his cheek, he pulled the covers of his bed and let his sobs lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was a bit late in uploading this. Work had been bonkers. The next chapter is back to the current timeline. Just some light fluff/smut for you today.
> 
> Imma go back to bed. Zzzzzzzz


	20. Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Bill. Sorry :(

_**Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, July 8, 2009** _

Chelsea carried a bunch of grocery bags inside her Mother’s suite, the bags full of Hillary’s favorite treats as Neil so persistently instructed her. Aside from the specifically requested Pop Tarts and apples, the grocery bags had chips, biscuits, a box of her favorite tea and all other assorted food items Hillary would buy for herself in the grocery. Chelsea even had Hillary’s neighbor prepare that homemade marmalade that she so liked. Chelsea, being the dutiful daughter that she was, made sure that everything that her mother liked was in that bag. Hillary did the same to her when she was hospitalized for typhoid fever when she was little.

“Hi Honey,” Hillary beamed in delight when she saw her daughter enter the suite, immediately sitting up on her bed with a book on her lap.

“Hi, Mom. God, these groceries are heavy,” Chelsea complained.

“Oh, dear. Just put it where you can. I’ll ask the staff to help move those,” Hillary suggested.

“Thanks, Mom,” Chelsea was rubbing her back. “God, I swear 30 is the new 40.”

Hillary giggled. “You’re just 29.”

“I know!” Chelsea raised her hands, waving them in the air. “I mean, quarter life crisis is apparently a thing! People are getting older and older these days.”

“That’s the thing, Honey. Getting older is the only thing us living things do at the same time,” Hillary offered these words of wisdom.

“Well, yeah, but you know what I’m saying? Younger and younger people think they’re old.” Chelsea walked across the room and sat beside her mother, leaning on the latter’s arm. “How’s my future Nobel Peace Prize winner.”

Hillary blushed. “Oh, stop it. I am not getting that award.”

“Oh no, you will,” Chelsea insisted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you will.

“No, I’m not.”

“You, you will.”

“Oh stop this. We’re going nowhere with this and nothing we say could change our minds,” Hillary said.

“Alright, alright,” Chelsea conceded, still laughing. “How’s it going when I was away?”

“Well, I think you heard the news. President Obama offered me an indefinite leave and I accepted,” Hillary said.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Mom? When I saw the report, I didn’t believe it because you didn’t tell anything to me.”

Hillary sighed. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I had to set my affairs in order before I felt comfortable telling you. I needed to make sure that the State Department will be running well without me.”

“Wow, your heart really is at Foggy Bottom,” remarked Chelsea in awe. “So, how as the transition?”

“Well, since Jim, my deputy is also recovering, Ann is taking over State since she’s #3. Huma is recovering too. I talked to her yesterday,” said Hillary.

“Oh, Huma. How is she?”

“The young woman was crying when she talked to me,” Hillary recalled. “She thought she’d never hear my voice again. She’s gone through so much. Poor girl. Although I didn’t show it, I was crying too. I was just thankful that all of my staff got out of that horrible place alive.”

“Oh, I hope she recovers soon,” said Chelsea.

“I hope so too,” Hillary concurred. “These people just want to make the world a safer place. They don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“They’re heroes like you, Mom,” Chelsea declared. “Every American is thankful for your bravery.”

The ever eloquent Hillary was made speechless. Truly, she didn’t know what to say. She felt very flattered of the praises being bestowed upon her, but she didn’t feel she deserved it. Her guilt, to Neil and to America, kept her up at night since she woke up.  
The silence between them was starting to feel awkward, so Chelsea changed the topic.

“So, you’re handling the transition. Anything we don’t know about?”

Hillary was thankful for Chelsea’s maneuver. “I don’t know if you saw the news but Susan Rice moved the UN to condemn the acts of the Rodinian regime. And to no one’s surprise, Russia blocked the resolution, so it failed to pass.”

“I thought you are working with Russia?” Chelsea quizzed her Mom. “with the reset button and everything.”

“Well, while we are opening our talks with Russia again, we knew we had to be extra careful. None of us were naïve to think that all the turmoil before would dissipate once Obama’s in office. We knew that Russia would slowly reveal their true face. The events in the past few days forced them to show their hand, apparently,” Hillary explained.

“So, what now?”

“I can’t tell you that, Sweetie. It’s classified,” Hillary replied. “But I can tell you that we are not letting this go unpunished.” Indeed, at the moment, the British are talking to the Rodinians for a possible de-escalation of the situation and some sort of truce between the US and Rodinia. Hillary was informed of that a few hours ago when President Obama called her himself to include her in the loop, despite having no authority at the moment, which made her appreciate her boss more.

“Well, you know when it comes to Rodinia, I trust your judgement. Everybody does.”

Hillary didn’t. “Thanks, Sweetie,” she forced herself to accept Chelsea’s compliment. She could believe how lucky she was with her daughter. She snuggled towards Chelsea, which made her scoot closer.

“So, how are you feeling these days? Are you going home soon?” asked Chelsea.

A small smile crept into her Hillary’s face. “As a matter of fact, the doctor is eyeing me to be released in four days. We are just arranging for the transportation back to the US. The president also told me earlier that there would be a ceremony at Andrews Air Base when we land.”

Chelsea’s face lit up. “Oh my God, that’s great!”

“I told the president that a small ceremony would suffice, but the White House wants this to be publicized as much possible. They see it as a win for the administration.” Hillary wasn’t sure she was comfortable at the role of being a poster girl of the administration’s foreign policy on Rodinia. Sure, she was the Secretary of State, the chief diplomat and the top enforcer of US foreign policy, but her job didn’t exactly focus on doing publicity. Her job still primarily relies on policy making, despite her role as a diplomat. The public side of being a Secretary of State remained the part of the job Hillary hated the most.

“Wow,” Chelsea said in awe.

“Yep. The White House wanted me to do a series of interviews with the press. To tell my story. I’m not exactly sure I do want to tell my story, but the public deserves to know what happened in Rodinia.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. But I’m so happy for you!” Chelsea cheered her on.

“Well, don’t be. I am not really fond of interviews, you know that.”

“But…it’s awesome! Your approval ratings will skyrocket for sure.”

“Darling, I am a bureaucrat. I am not running for office. The only thing I care about is my retirement on January 20, 2013 when I leave the administration and by then, I will have all the time to babysit my grandkids,” she patted Chelsea’s still small belly.

“Oh, Mom. You’re so adorable.”

“And you need to rest, darling. And eat. A pregnant woman needs all the nutrients she can get.”

“You’re right, Mom.” Chelsea stood up and inspected the bags of groceries that she brought. “Where’s the crackers and cheese in here…”

“Give me some too, I’m starving,” Hillary said.

“Oh sure.”

Chelsea handed her Mom crackers and cheese and the two of them munched their snack as they watched the latest episode of 30 Rock.

“God, I’d die if I ever had a boss like Jack Donaghy,” Hillary remarked, popping a cracker in her mouth. “Good thing the President isn’t like him a single bit.”

“I know. I wonder what if you have a nutjob as your boss.”

“Urgh, don’t make me think about it.”

“Like Donald Trump.”

“JESUS CHRIST CHELSEA,” Hillary said, half-amused and half-horrified.

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea wiped her tears from laughter. “I’m gonna stop.”

“Thank you.”

“I want some mac and cheese,” Hillary said. “I’m craving.”

“Funny, I’m the one who’s pregnant and you’re the one who’s craving,” Chelsea quipped. “I’ll go make two cups.”

“Yay! Thanks, Honey.”

“You’re welcome.”

While Chelsea was heating some water for their instant mac and cheese, an unexpected guest surprised them.

Neil had just arrived.

"Hello, Honey. Hi Chelsea," Neil happily greeted the two women.

"Hi, Dear," said Hillary.

"Good to see you, Neil. Had a good flight?" asked Chelsea as she poured water into the water heater.

"It was uneventful. So, how are you ladies?"

"We're good," Hillary replied. "Chelsea just came back from Pennsylvania, didn't you, Sweetheart?"

"I did. I had dinner with Marc's Mom, Marjorie and then we threw an engagement party days later. Marjorie's really happy about the engagement," Chelsea told them, beaming.

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the engagement party." Hillary felt bad for missing such an important even in her daughter's life.

"That's okay, Mom. As long as you'll walk me down the aisle."

"Of course I will!" Hillary was elated to hear that.

Neil chuckled. "That's my girls. Am I invited? I'm not exactly related to you..."

"Of course, you are. You've been part of our lives. The least I can do is to give you a free buffet," Chelsea quipped.

"I'll take the buffet, please and thank you," he replied, laughing.

"That's settled, then. Mom says the White House is planning a media blitz for her when she comes home."

"Oooooh, she's going to hate it," remarked Neil.

"You bet. But I can't exactly disobey the president's orders. It's not much effort on my part. I just hate interviews. I don't know how John McCain does it every week on the Sunday shows," Hillary replied.

"He's a white guy. He loves the camera," Neil said.

"Well, I don't" Hillary replied, exasperated. "Do you love the camera, Neil?"

"Does my album of in-jogging selfies on Facebook answer your question?" he winked.

"Point taken," said Hillary and Chelsea in unison, prompting a heart laugh from the three.

"You guys are a riot," Chelsea wiped a tear from her eye from the excessive laughing. "Moving on...I have story that might interest you, Mom."

"Oh, pray tell," Hillary seemed giddy.

"I met this refugee in Philly. Lanny Davis is his name. He says he's from Rodinia too," Chelsea recalled as she handed her mother the instant mac and cheese.

Neil was keenly listening as he pretended to play with his phone. 

"Wow, another Rodinian refugee. I know the State Department had approved defectors over the years, but I don't seem to recall such name."

"He says he and his family went here during Loiseau'stime," Chelsea replied.

"Ah, makes sense," Hillary nodded.

Neil couldn't believe he was hearing this conversation. He was debating whether to secretly record this, but he decided to just take contemporaneous notes.

"He knows me, Mom," Chelsea added, "he says he saw me during your confirmation hearings. He wants me to tell you how proud he is to be your compatriot."

"I'm so touched," Hillary pressed her palm over her chest. "Such a kind soul."

"He is," Chelsea scooped a spoonful of mac and cheese into her mouth. "It would be great if you two meet. He gave me his business card."

"I think we can arrange that," said Hillary. "But for the meantime, I want to recover and rest. Maybe my office can contact him when I'm back in the job."

Neil silently panicked in the corner at the prospect of Lanny Davis personally meeting. It was bad enough that he sucessfully made contact to Chelsea and gave him his business card. With his heart pounding, he immediately texted Tom Donilon.

_Just found out who Energy is. Eagle already far ahead than we have anticipated. Call me whenever you can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold the fruit of my sleepy writing. LOL. Things at work are still hectic but it's starting to wind down. 
> 
> Don't worry. Bill will be the star of the next chapter, with the special participation of...David Miliband.


	21. Diplomacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I thought my hell week was over (but it really is now!)

_**Whitehaven Palace, Government Complex,** _ _**Aldenkirk, Rodinia, July 9, 2009** _

The grandiose doors of the seat of Rodinian government had opened for the first time in decades for the United Kingdom's chief diplomat, David Miliband, and members of the British diplomatic corps. It was an unprecedented moment in history. For the first time since Rodiniaisolated itself from the world, the country had welcomed a diplomat from the West. But that wasn't to say that they hadn't welcomed any visitors at all. Rodinia had been routinely receiving parliamentarians from countries who had embraced communism, like China and Russia.

The Rodinians, led by Bill, stood in the grand ballroom of the palace, expecting the arrival of the British. With his generals flanking him, Bill looked at Miliband from afar, reminding him of his young self, how he wanted to enter politics at an early age. If things didn't happen the way it were, he was sure he would have been someone like Miliband.

"Mr. Clinton," Miliband extended his hand for a handshake.

Bill reciprocated the gesture. "Mr. Miliband. Welcome to Rodinia."

"Thank you for the welcome," replied Miliband. Despite the cordial exchange, there wasn't a hint of smile in his face.

"Please, come this way," Bill led Miliband and his delegation towards the Executive Reception, a large, elegant room where Bill received his esteemed guests. It was adorned by the most beautiful pieces Rodinia had to offer. Each object inside the room and in the entire palace in general was made by Rodinian hands. This was their way of showing that they could compete with their Western adversaries who had always demeaned them in the ranks of nations.

"Please, sit," Bill offered the empty sofa to Miliband, and he sat on the one opposite to it. Their aides took their places around the two principals. Bill crossed his legs and leaned back on the sofa, clearly comfortable on his own turf.

"Mr. Clinton, it is an unprecedented moment in history that we invited to your abode for this very important bilateral meeting," Miliband said. He was careful not to utter even a single word in praise of Bill Clinton or Rodinia, as his words were considered official British foreign policy, next to the Prime Minister's.

"Indeed, this is unprecedented. Our countries had not spoken since the Rodinian Civil War," remarked Bill.

"Since the Rodinian Coup, yes." Miliband insisted on the word "coup" since Loiseau was installed by the military after it grabbed power from its duly elected civilian leader. Loiseau himself had allied with the military beforehand to ensure that he would be put into power after the coup. The chaos that preceded it, also stirred by the military, was what Bill referred to as the "civil war".

It didn't escape Bill that Miliband tried to define Rodinia's history from the point of view of the West, and it irked him a lot, buit he didn't let it show. Instead, he tried to move the conversation along. 

"Well then," Bill shifted in his seat, "let's get into business."

"Very well." Miliband cleared his throat. "We are here to offer a possible solution for the de-escalation of tensions between your country and the United States. We are very concerned about what may happen if Rodinia and the United States keep making hostile moves against each other."

"Very well, may we hear of your proposal?"

Miliband cleared his throat again. "I have spoken with the acting Secretary of State, Ann Watkins. The United States has agreed to lift a first round of sanctions if your country would commit to denuclearisation talks. These talks are not bilateral. Each member of the UN Security Council will send representatives to the talks to oversee and mediate."

Bill thought carefully about his leverage. Of the five permanent members of the Security Council, he had Russia and China as allies. The other two sans the US, Great Britain and France, would surely side with the US.

His leverage was pretty good, he thought.

"Furthermore," Miliband continued, "if the talks are successful, we are proposing a public meeting between you and Secretary Rodham as a sign of reconciliation."

Bill tensed, his jaw stiff.

"That would be like a public display of amnesty for the Secretary," he said. "The people of Rodinia wouldn't be too happy seeing that. She had pleaded her guilt and she is awaiting the death sentence. Doing so would be as good as pardoning her."

"Rodinia cannot execute her whilst she is on foreign soil," Miliband reminded him. "While the British government has a different opinion on the verdict in Secretary Rodham's trial, we will welcome any sign of reconciliation between your country and the United States.”

Bill’s nose flared, a disastrous move in high-level diplomatic talks. The usually calm and collected Bill was inflamed by the prospect of meeting Hillary.

He was bound to something stupid once she was around, like what he did the last time. He couldn’t assure himself that he would not do anything that would jeopardize his already weakened position, like climbing to her hotel bedroom and fucking her until sunrise.   

“I am open to the talks with the United States, but less so for the public meeting with Secretary Rodham,” he said, his hands on a steeple.

“Very well. I am encouraged by the progress of this meeting,” said Miliband.

“And so am I, but I cannot promise that we will agree to anything that was laid upon us,” Bill replied.

“It is expected. After all, we are not put into these positions if things are easy as we’d like them to be.”

Bill could not have agreed more.

**_Medical Bay, Ramstein Air Base, July 11, 2009_ **

Hillary stopped flipping the TV channels as she became extremely bored of her continued confinement. She wanted to walk around and take in some sun, but the facility wasn't conducive for strolling. But thankfully, she would be released the next day, and she would be flying back to the US, where she would continue her treatment and therapy. Her arm was much better than before, but still wrapped in a cast. It would take some time for it to heal, though. But Hillary wasn't very worried about that. She had more pressing matters keeping her up at night.

She looked around her room and found her daughter sleeping in the sofa. Poor girl, she thought. She's pregnant and engaged. She should be spending time with her fiance, not caring for her mother. Her heart broke a little for her daughter. Up to that day, Chelsea was still blissfully aware of her controversial parentage. Hillary remembered that she had a letter written to Bill and Chelsea that was tucked under her shirt when she was in Aldenkirk. Hillary wondered where that letter went. Surely, the FBI would have returned her possessions to her if they had found something. She remembered vague memories of Bill calling out to her after she was stunned from behind in prison. She wasn't sure if she was hallucinating, but she just hoped that it was he who took the the letters.

If not...she hated to think who got those letters.

She decided that she would work on declassifying the details of Chelsea's parentage, now that the US-Rodinian relations were constantly in the news. She wouldn't let Chelsea know about her parentage through reading a scoop from the NY Post. No. It had to come from her and her alone.

On the other side of the room was Neil, snoozing on the large chair while a newspaper lay discarded on his lap. He too had been a comfort for her for the past few weeks. Every once in a while, he would fly from DC to care for her. He had been an angel. She felt she didn't deserve him, after she cheated on him with Bill. She had been lying to him up to that moment. She would have to tell him at some point. 

God, she had a lot to tell him too.

But she didn't want to think about it now.

She simply wanted to bask in this fleeting moment of peace, inside the cocoon of comfort and safety. She didn't want to go yet. She wanted to just be with Chelsea and Neil and take the weight of the world off her shoulders. But she knew that peace wasn't meant to last. She would have to wade back into the horrible, horrible world soon.

She turned her head around, and she noticed that Neil's phone was flashing and vibrating on top of her bedside table. She reached over and glanced over the screen, and saw Tom Donilon's name. She quirked her eyebrow. Why would the National Security Advisor, a lifelong Democrat and a presidential appointee, would personally contact Neil, a Republican congressman?

It was something that left Hillary in great discomfort. Something felt odd, and she knew she shouldn't pry with his private affairs. Maybe she shouldn't. Maybe there was nothing to it after all, so she decided that she would just wake Neil up.

Except that, her urge to pry was greater than her self-discipline. After all, what Neil didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? So Hillary let the phone ring until Tom gave up contacting him. Looking cautiously at Neil, she grabbed his phone and quickly keyed in the phone's PIN (he gave her his phone's PIN in case of an emergency) and deleted Tom's call from the call log so that there was no trace of her tampering. Once she was back on the main screen, there was one thing had quickly caught her attention: Tom had texted him right before his call. Her heart racing and her mind spinning, the opened Tom's latest message to Neil:

_Do not give Evergreen the ring at all costs. We can't afford another fiasco like in Aldenkirk._

The fiasco in Aldenkirk...Hillary was certain Tom was referring to her kidnapping. Why would Tom talk to Neil about it? Even though he was a member of Congress and her boyfriend, he had no authority to decide on these matters. Neil wasn't even on the House Intellgence or Foreign Relations Committee. So why would Tom confide to Neil these matters with great authority?

Hillary kept scrolling up in the text message chain. It didn't take her long to figure out that she was Evergreen, and they had been keeping tabs on her for quite a while now, at least since the beginning of the administrtion. She felt being betrayed by the person she trusted the most. The affection she felt for Neil turned into anger, anger for playing her like a fool. Somehow, Neil's actions eased her guilt for cheating on him, but not entirely. However, it did provide her a reason not to tell Neil about what happened in Aldenkirk. After all, he probably already knew about it.

Hillary deleted Tom's last message from Neil's phone, but not from her memory. No. That message was forever burned in her mind, and her resolve to decode that cryptic message was galvanized. She needed to keep her guard up, as she found out the hard way that she couldn't trust anyone, including her own boyfriend. She shouldn't have been surprised. She was dealing with high-level politics after all. Nevertheless, the discovery hurt her. She should have known that spies would use such covert tactics such as love to get the information they needed.

Neil's secret made her question his feelings for her.Did he ever truly loved her?

The safe answer was probably no, she thought. She fought hard not to cry, as Neil was going to wake up soon. From that moment, she would have to live with the fact that the person she once loved and trusted had been lying to her.

At that moment, a night in a Rodinian prison was more tolerable to her. At least, no one lied to her in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. Looks like I won't be able to finish Part II of Spoils before I leave for vacation, but I promise that I'll update as often as I can before then!


	22. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much in this chapter. Just moving things along. Also, no beta :)

_**Joint Base Andrews, Maryland,** _ _**July 1** _ _**1, 20** _ _**09** _

For the first time in weeks, Hillary's skin was touched by the warm summer sun. The fates were working overtime when at exactly noon, the doors of the plane carrying her from Germany to the United States opened, and a grateful nation saw her emerge from that doorway, smiling and waving via the thick row of cameras broadcasting her arrival live. At the foot of the plane were President Obama, Vice President Biden, their spouses, the rest of the cabinet, the highest ranking officers of the military including the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and some of her closest friends. Hillary had never been this happy alighting from an airplane and seeing Andrews Air Base. She couldn't control herself when the tears fell from her eyes unchecked, letting the American see her at ther most vulnerable.

When Hillary got off the stairs, President Obama broke protocol, approached her and hugged her as tightly as he could. Hillary wad very touched by her boss's gesture, and her sobbed in his arms. Hillary didn't care if pundits would brand her as weak for crying in public. She was just so happy to be back home.

"Welcome home, Hillary. Welcome home," President Obama's deep voice soothed her raging emotions.

"Thank you, Mr. President," she replied as she pulled back and faced the entourage waiting for her.

Behind her were Chelsea and Neil, both beaming as they watched her be welcomed by her proud colleagues.

"Hill," Biden took her into a tight hug. She too missed him so much.

"Joe," she sniffed. "I didn't think I'll see you again."

"Nonsense, Hill. You're destined for greater things, I can feel it," Biden assured her.

Hillary could only manage a grateful look at Joe, who was patting her back. She then turned her attention to her fellow cabinet members who were delighted to see her back in their ranks. Janet Napolitano, Eric Holder and the others were ecstatic, but none more so than Bob Gates.

"I am so proud of you, Hillary, so proud," Bob said as he hugged her, his voice muffled.

"Oh Bob, I've missed you. Thank you for rescuing me," she said.

"We leave no one behind, remember that. That's the American way. That's our policy. And I'm glad that you're back home safe," Bob replied, his face full of happiness and relief.

"I owe my life to you, Bob," she remarked, smiling. "I would have been dead if it weren't for you and our brave men and women."

"And the world would have been a much dangerous place if it weren't for your bravery. You are an incredible woman, Hillary. I don't think I'm worthy even to kiss your feet."

"Oh stop it," Hillary dismissed Bob's shower of praises. "You overstate my hand in this too much."

"But you singlehandedly took them down!" Bob insisted, chuckling. "I wish I could do as you say, but it's all there is!"

"My staff are commendable too," Hillary tried to share the credit to her aides.

"Indeed. And they learn it from their boss," Bob replied. "Say, why don't we continue this conversation tonight? My treat. Becky will be there. Neil can come too."

"Of course," Hillary gladly accepted Bob's invitation for dinner. "I'll see you later."

As Hillary bid Bob goodbye, Neil was just a few feet behind her. He caught Bob's eye and gave a curt nod. Suddenly, Bob's face turned from sunny to grim.

_**Rodham** _ _**_**Residence** _ ** _ _**, Washington D.C., July 11, 2009** _

Hillary entered her room completely exhausted from the night out with Bob and Becky. She had been with Neil at the dinner and he was kind enough to drop her off her house. Truly feeling exhausted, she left him with a quick peck on the cheek instead of inviting him in. She knew he was disappointed but she couldn't be bothered about his feelings right now, as much as she was trying not to harbor ill will against him after she read his text messages.

She flicked her lamp open and a soft glow illuminated her bedroom. Her favorite pink silk robe, towel and her usual skincare products - mostly Estee Lauder - lay on top of the bed. Also in it was a small card with Chelsea's handwriting:

_**Mom,** _

_**I got all of this for you :) You deserve a nice long sleep for tonight and pampering in the coming days. So in your bedside table, you'll find some gift cheques for spa treatments and massages. Those are my homecoming gifts for you. Use it well. I don't want to see those eyesbags when we see each other again. :)** _

_**Love always,** _

_**Chelsea** _

Hillary was incredibly touched by her daughter's gesture. Chelsea had always been the caring person that she was right now. Sometimes, she wondered whether Chelsea would still love her if she knew about her father, how she lied to her for almost thirty years, not that she wanted to. But still, a lie was a lie. But the possible damage of her relationship of her daughter was a very small price to pay for the safety of the American people.

With her body aching and her eyes drowsy, Hillary pulled the silk nightgown on her body and put the skincare products away, not even bothering to apply some on her skin because she was so tired. In a blink of an eye, she fell asleep.

* * *

Hillary woke up several hours later, still extremely tired but her mind was completely awake. She wanted to go back to sleep, but her brain was keeping her up. She felt restless as her sleep was very light. She thought that the sun would be up when she opened her eyes but alas, it was only 1am. She kicked on her bed, frustrated by the lack of sleep. Fuck. Why wouldn't she let herself relax? She knew she needed this rest, but her mind wasn't going to let her have any of it. She wanted to bang her head into the desk so that she would somehow fall unconscious but that was a stupid idea at best.

She turned to her bedside table and saw a copy of Madeleine Albright's memoir sitting there. Hillary did not notice that it was there earlier. She might have missed it due to her exhaustion. And so, she put her glasses on, grabbed the book and opened the bookmark and began reading, hoping that she would fall asleep.

But a within a few minutes of reading, Hillary already knew it was a lost cause. She was too restless to sleep. For some reason, her mind won't let her rest. She had been sleeping like a baby back at the Ramstein but it was completely different when she got back home. Maybe she was still reacquainting herself to this new environment.

Or maybe it was because she was thrusted back into her reality, and thus she was confronted again by the tight intricacies of American foreign relations. Her hospital suite was like a cocoon that shielded her from the mess she had created, and the international tensions she had escalated. Sure, she would not be handling America's foreign policy at the moment as she was still on leave, but that didn't stop her from worrying. After all, she still blamed herself for the fiasco in Rodinia, and the American people are still in the dark about the treasonous act she committed there. If anybody knew, surely, she would go to jail.

Hillary shook her head. She shouldn't be thinking of these things right now. Her priority should be getting some sleep.

An idea opened up in her mind. It wasn't exactly the best idea she had, but it was worth a try.

She pushed the book aside, and her right hand slipped inside her silk robe. Her fingers slowly crawling, she found her bud soft and her mound dry. Her tongue clicked. That wouldn't do.

Her middle finger pressed and circled her bud, and the reaction was immediate. She felt herself swell and harden, and her mind and body began to relax. She could also feel herself moisten between her fingertips, her entrance becoming warmer and warmer. She was careful not to force her still injured left arm. The faint friction in was burning deliciously in her center. No need to rush things. She let her desire build slowly.

With her mind and body slowly relaxing, her thoughts began to wander. She imagined herself soaking in a bathtub of warm water, with petals floating on the surface and lit candles all around her. She loved her baths, especially if someone would join her.

In her mind's eye, Neil opened the door of the bathroom with only a towel covering his lower body. Being a veteran, his body was as statuesque as it could be. The towel couldn't hide the erection that was beneath it. Hillary involuntary licked her lips, eager to feel his member on her mouth and on her entrance. Smirking, Neil took off the towel, and his erection pointed towards her, telling her that he was only for her and her alone.

Hillary could not help but groan in her bed, her fingers rubbing her clit faster and harder.

"Oh Neil," she gasped, "make love to me."

The Neil in her mind widened his grin as he dipped into the water and kissed her, starting from her jaw, moving up to her mouth and down to her neck. Hillary loved the attention he was giving her. He was licking and sucking every inch of skin his lips touched. His now on her breasts, Neil lashed his tongue on her nipples, swirling around her sensitive tip and purposely avoiding her nerves, driving her crazy. As he did it, Hillary felt the pool of wetness in her mound grew. Hillary relaxed more, and she was aching for more touches.

Neil was a slow, gentle lover, and he had always taken time to make sure she was satisfied. More than once, if he could manage it. He had been always like that when they were making love. It was probably why she was able to learn to love him when he first courted her in 1999. She wasn't willing to let go of Bill at first, but at some point, she realized watching Bill from afar wasn't doing her any favors, especially if he turned out to be a authoritarian maniac when he surfaced.

But something else changed about Bill when she met him. He wasn't anymore the gentle lover like he used to be when they were married. He was very...dominant. And rough. He took complete control over her, and did as he pleased. She was at her mercy, blindfolded, bound, gagged, and begging for her life. She was kneeling in front of her, helpless and scared, as she was forced to suck his cock in the middle of a dark detention cell.

The memory of her last sexual encounter with Bill made her muscles clench hard and her juices spilled outside her.

Hillary immediately opened her eyes, her fantasy with Neil completely gone. Instead, all she was thinking was how she loved being fucked like that: rough and hard. It was a realization 60 years in the making. Sure, she was quite adventurous with Bill when they were still together, but they had never ventured into something more daring than with her on top.

But with him dominating her? She loved it. She absolutely loved it.

Thinking about Bill was the last thing she needed. After all, he was the source of her guilt, but she was too tired and too distracted be guilty right now. Her body was aching for his roughness, his force. Her muscles pulsating in anticipation for his hardness that would never come.

Still floating above reality, Hillary removed her fingers from her bud and easily slammed them towards her center, the juices around her easing the entry. She gasped at the force of her movements, her back arching in the sensation. With her eyes still tightly shut, she imagined herself behing pounded forcefully as she thrusted her fingers inside her like crazy.

"Oh please Bill, fuck me like that..."

Thankfully, nobody else was with her inside her residence, as her last chant was a little too loud. She was already moaning and trashing in her bed. Her hips were thrusting against her probing fingers.

"Oh yes...yes...I'm close...I'm close....oh yessssssss!"

Hillary's orgasm rolled through her, waves and waves of pleasure washing all over her, like a dam breaking. She thrusted her fingers in and out, riding out her climax for as long as she could. Her moans echoed loudly throughout her room, as loudly as she did in that detention cell in Rodinia.

Still breathing heavily, she absentmindedly scooted to her left from the center where she usually lay. She propped the pillows for extra comfort and she immediately drifted to sleep, like the countless times before when she was on the left side of the bed, and Bill was on the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still on vacation and I go back on Friday. God, I can't wait to get back to my fics full time. I miss you all!


	23. Interview

**_Rodham Residence, Washington D.C., July 18, 2009_ **

Holding the bowl of popcorn in her hand, Hillary called her daughter who was sitting in the couch and was waiting for 60 Minutes to start. As part of the media blitz celebrating her triumphant return, she was interviewed by great Steve Kroft, an honor she never thought she would have. A few days ago, she sat down with Kroft in her office at Foggy Bottom and there, she recounted her experience in Rodinia. At one time, Kroft steered the interview in dangerous territory, asking about how her meeting with the Supreme Leader was. She answered in vague terms, maintaining her story of him coercing her to surrender to his demands in exchange of her life. Recounting her horrible experience in front of cameras wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be, as she found herself in tears in the middle of the interview. Kroft was kind to give her time to compose herself, but she got back to her feet pretty quickly.

Fast forward to Sunday night. After seemingly countless junkets and live interviews, Hillary finally was released from her obligations and was now lounging in the couch with Chelsea. Her daughter, who took a leave from work, would be spending the next few weeks with her. Chelsea booked a vacation to California for them in August, and that was exactly what Hillary needed.

"Thanks Mom," said Chelsea as Hillary handed the bowl of popcorn to her. "No more tight schedules. Tomorrow, we'll wake up as late as we like. No checking of emails, Mom," Chelsea warned.

Hillary chuckled. Her daughter knew her very well. "Alright. I promise. No emails."

"And no phone calls, either. I know you are already thinking of a loophole."

"Yeah, yeah," Hillary raised her hands in surrender. "You got me. No emails, no phone calls. Just relaxation."

"Good. You're on leave, Mom. Let your deputies handle it."

Hillary didn't feel like violating her daughter's orders. "No, I won't. I'm just going to relax until I feel ready to work again."

"And until your arm heals. You aren't exactly a spring chicken, Mom."

"Wow, thank you for reminding me," Hillary pretended to be offended.

"But you still look youthful as ever," Chelsea snuggled closer and she used her mother's arm as a pillow.

"Great recovery," Hillary teased. "I thought you really meant it."

"You're the Jane Fonda of the State Department, Mom," replied Chelsea.

"Oh, you're so sweet, Darling."

"I know."

Hillary planted a kiss on Chelsea's head. She would have continued this easy banter with her daughter, but her attention was caught by the appearance of Steve Kroft on TV.

"It's starting," Chelsea said excitedly.

"Good evening, and welcome to 60 Minutes," said Steve Kroft.

"The national headlines today and in the past few weeks were dominated by Secretary Hillary Rodham's story of courage in the face of danger, and her unbelievable journey home. Since then, she had been the symbol of patriotism and bravery."

Hillary quietly groaned in her seat, still not comfortable with the constant shower of praises.

"In the next few minutes, you will see our much-awaited in-depth interview with Secretary Rodham," said Kroft, "and in the second half of the show, is an interview that, frankly, nobody, including us, had seen coming."

"What was that about?" asked Chelsea, confused by what the host meant.

"I don't know. The interview was pretty long. As far as I understand what they said, the entire hour was going to be devoted to my interview," Hillary frowned.

"That's odd," Chelsea remarked.

Indeed, it was. But Hillary decided to push her curiosity side as the first flew clips of her interview rolled.

Chelsea, although she heard her mother's story quite a few times now, was still moved by the interview. Thinking it through, Hillary realized how deep her daughter's empathy for other people was. Perhaps that was why she chose to work for a nonprofit instead of a corporate giant that would pay her ten times more than her current salary.

"That was so good, Mom," said Chelsea when her mother's segment wrapped up. Hillary noticed that CBS had edited out quite a lot from their interview, but the ones that had remained were still the noteworthy portions, especially the part where Hillary choked up with tears.

"Thanks, Sweetie," replied Hillary, touched.

Hillary was going to appreciate her daughter's adorations some more, but she was cut by Kroft's preview of the new segment.

"Just now, we have spoken to the heroine of the story. After the break, our very own Anderson Cooper sits down with the villain, the antagonist: Supreme Leader of Rodinia, William Jefferson Clinton.

"What is this?" Chelsea barked at the television, "Why would they let that horrible man speak to Americans? This is disgusting."

As if on cue, Hillary's phone vibrated with a new text from her spokesman, Philippe Reines.

"This is some bullshit," texted Philippe.

Indeed, she thought. What CBS did was deplorable. They were clearly milking this story as much as they could. Not content with getting an hours-length tell-all from her, they decided to put the man who imprisoned her just to create more drama.

Hillary quietly texted Philippe back. "If they ask for comment, tell them we have none. Best if we remain silent on this. Let other outlets chastise CBS."

"Ok. But I would really love to unleash on them. This was so out of line," was Philippe's reply.

"I know. But we might be skirting 1A issues if we criticize. Dangerous territory," she replied, referring to the First Amendment.

"Noted, Hill. Let me know if you have more thoughts."

"Ok. Thanks."

Hillary, clearly distraught by the revelation, couldn't settle in her seat.

"I know how you feel, Mom," said Chelsea, gently rubbing her mother's arm. "We don't have to watch it if you don't want to."

"No, I'd like to," Hillary said, maintaining a brave front. "I'll survive."

"Alright."

Finally, after the series of commercials, Steve Kroft reappeared.

"Welcome back. After we have heard from Secretary Rodham, it is time to hear from the other side of the story. Supreme Leader William Jefferson Clinton is unlike his peers. While state propaganda always kept him in the good graces of his people, his good looks and killer charm endeared him more with the people of Rodinia, something that Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Il would kill to have."

"Jesus, why are they praising a despot?" Chelsea remarked in outrage. Hillary, on the other hand, couldn't disagree with that assessment, and she thought his charm made him more dangerous than Putin or Kim. Like Kim, he had been desperate for a meeting with the US President for years, and she had pulled every string not to let that happen, because she knew they could not resist him the moment he opened his mouth.

The same way she could not resist him, even if her life depended on it.

Bill's face appeared on the screen. Her hands clenched so hard that her nails were piercing her skin. She felt a rush of different emotions flow through her veins - anger, fear, disgust and contempt. This was the first time she would see him since her captivity, and it unearthed several unpleasant memories, the most painful of which was her long walk from in the courtroom aisle, mirroring her memories of her wedding day, except that she would be sentenced to death.

"Mr. Clinton," Anderson Cooper began, "it is no secret that you do not like the leadership of the United States in the world stage. Can you please tell the American people why?"

"If the American people had seen what I have, then they would despise their government. That's all I will say," Bill replied.

"It must be a terrible thing if you can say that in those terms," remarked Anderson.

"Indeed. The truth, after all, is not always pretty. But it is necessary. The American people deserve to know what their government is doing overseas."

Anderson looked unperturbed, but he was intrigued. "Can you please elaborate on that, Mr. Clinton?"

"I will not. But I do hope that someday, their conscience will dictate their policy, assuming they have one."

Bill's harsh words made Hillary's blood boil in an instant. The nerve of him to lie! But of course, he had mastered the art of lying. After all, keeping his extramarital affairs from her a secret required an ample amount of lying. She, of all people, shouldn't have been surprised.

"How can he sit there and make up lies?" Chelsea said in outrage.

Hillary had almost forgotten that her daughter was sitting next to her. She was felt vindicated with Chelsea having the same reaction as her.

The rest of the interview was filled with lies and atrocities. Hillary had never seen Bill look so frightening and despicable. When she finally couldn't stand seeing him, she abruptly took the remote control and shut the TV off, not realizing the tears that had been staining her cheeks. Hillary stormed out of the living room and into her bedroom, and Chelsea, concerned for her mother, followed her.

"Mom," Chelsea whispered softly.

A visibly upset Hillary sat on the edge of her bed and let herself sob openly. Chelsea sat next to her and gave her comfort.

"Mom, it's not worth it. He doesn't deserve a shred of your thoughts. He doesn't even deserve the same air you're breathing," Chelsea told her mother.

What Chelsea said was true. Bill didn't deserve a lot of things, including her thoughts, but she couldn't get him out of her head.

How could she? He was her husband and the father of her only child!

And the man whom she loved the longest.

"Chels, I have a confession to make," Hillary said. God, she needed to say something. Anything.

Chelsea's face darkened. "What is it, Mom?"

Hillary looked at her daughter in the eye. "I know Bill Clinton."

Chelsea's face changed from that of concern, to shock.

"I knew him very well," Hillary continued, her eyes puffy from crying. "And it pains me so much that he had become this way."

"My God," was all Chelsea could say.

"I know, Sweetie."

"But it's all the more despicable that he is treating you like garbage! He almost killed you!"

"I know. It was so hard to hear him speak like that."

Chelsea sighed. "Does the President know about this?"

"Of course he does. I disclosed my relationship with Clinton decades ago and every president is aware of this."

"Alright," Chelsea replied. "It's unfortunate that you had even met Clinton, let alone be friends."

Hillary simply looked at her daughter, unable to respond to the latter's pronouncements.

"All I can say is that we can't turn back time now, Sweetie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update :( This was a tough chapter to write, and while I am not running short of ideas, my challenge is not to get lost in everything that I have come up with. I know you are excited for Bill and Hillary's second meeting, but I am having a difficulty getting there. Please bear with me, but I will make sure it will be all worth it. :)


	24. Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so much fluff in here. I'll make up for the lack of it next chapter :)

**_BLT Steak, Washington D.C., July 20, 2009_ **

Maggie Haberman's brows furrowed as she scouffled through the pile of documents presented to her. Clearly, the contents of these documents were explosive, but she just couldn't see how she could get it published.

"Marlene," she said, "this is Pentagon Papers territory."

"Yes," Marlene, a staffer for the Senate Armed Services Committee replied. "My source wants it out. Especially after Clinton's cryptic mesage in 60 Minutes."

"So you are not the source of these documents?" inquired Maggie.

"No. I am just the intermediary. I am no Deepthroat," replied Marlene.

"This...this is breathtaking, and not in a good way," remarked Maggie. "This will certainly blow the administration's narrative that America is and will always be a force of good."

"Indeed, but my source and I cannot take the pretense anymore, that's why we decided to come forward."

Maggie decided to dig a little deeper. "So these documents are just the summary?"

"Yes."

Maggie pushed her glasses further. "Marlene, we're gonna need more than just the executive summary. We need the full findings. We cannot report just based on this. We need the full context. Even if I write an article about this, it will never see the light of day. My editor will kill it."

Marlene, was visibly disappointed. "You need the entire thing?"

"Yes," said Maggie.

Marlene sighed. "I'll try. I cannot promise that I can give you beyond this. I might go to jail if I did."

Maggie simply stared at Marlene, suddenly fearful for the staffer's life.

**_Government Complex, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, July 20, 2009_ **

Bill and John Podesta were walking across the hallways of the government complex on the way to the daily national security meeting. Bill's long strides made it quite hard for John to catch up, but he jostled every now and then to keep up with his boss.

"Based on our pulse on the ground, the people have been surprisingly, sympathetic towards Secretary Rodham. The sympathizers aren't the majority, but they aren't few either. One in four have expressed desires of giving her amnesty," John Podesta broke the disappointing news to Bill.

"And did you ask why they feel that way?"

"They thought she was very resilient. She didn't blink. They found it most admirable."

"Even if she is defending the country who destroyed us?"

"Yes. Somehow, those who said they were sympathetic towards her seem to know the contents of her speech during her sentencing," explained Podesta. "I am still not sure, but I think the CIA is doing a covert operation in our soil to sway public sympathy against you, Sir. They are riding the huge momentum from Rodham, and now they have infiltrated us."

Bill kept his face unreadable. He knew he did not have to look very far to find the traitor.

"Alright," he said calmly, deciding to take Podesta's report with a grain of salt. "Verify those claims and immediately report back to me if there are findings."

"Yes, Sir," John made a mental note of Bill's instructions for him to report back to his colleagues in Washington.

**_Books and Other Things, Washington D.C., July 23, 2009_ **

Chelsea was busy perusing the New Releases section of the bookstore on a lovely summer day, holding three books under her arm. Her Mom was napping in the house and Chelsea was beginning to get board with all the free time that she had to she decided to roam around town. Of course, her eyes got caught on a local bookstore so she decided to give it a quick look.

Being the serial bibliophile, there was no way Chelsea was living this bookstore without a new purchase. Her mother always teased her bad her obsession with books was. She would always end up buying a book whenever she entered a bookstore. Hillary was an avid reader too, but she wasn't as bad as Chelsea. Chelsea had always asked her mother where her love for books came from, and Hillary would always say that it was from her. Chelsea wasn't entirely convinced though, so she asked about her grandparents, or uncles. Hillary told her they weren't as avid readers as she was. Once, she tried to ask whether her father was an avid reader, but Hillary would simply laugh and never answer the question, which was Chelsea's cue to end the conversation.

Ever since she was a little kid, the topic of her dad was some sort of a taboo in the Rodham household. It's not that Hillary imposed a rule that Chelsea wasn't allowed to ask about or speak of her father, but whenever she does, Hillary would simply giggle or skirt the issue until she could shift the conversation. In time, Chelsea noticed that subtle cue, and every time it popped up, she would back down. She just came to terms that she could never press her mother for a direct answer on her father. She wasn't very much bothered, though. It would be great if she knew more about her father, but it woudln't kill her if she was kept in the dark about him.

In other words - she's chill.

Chelsea, satisfied with her book haul, carted off to the cash register to pay for her purchase. And what a surprise that came for her when she saw a familiar face in the line.

It was Lanny Davis from Philadelphia.

Lanny was waving and smiling at her as she approached the cash register. Of course. He was in D.C. for the homecoming ceremony the State Department had for her mother a few days ago, and Chelsea saw her in the audience as a guest (State invited several refugees to the event). She was meaning to talk to her, but she was pulled by several friends of her mother who were in attendance.

"Hi, Ms. Rodham! Remember me, Lanny Davis?" Lanny, who was two spots ahead of her, greeted her cheerfully.

"Hi! I remember you from Philadelphia. And you were in the State event a few days ago, right?" Chelsea recalled.

"Yes! Impeccable, Ms. Rodham. Do you have photographic memory?"

Chelsea shook her head. "No. I would kill to have that. It will make studying so much easier."

"I hear you, Ms. Rodham..."

"Oh please, call me Chelsea. Ms. Rodham is too formal," she replied.

"And you can call me Lanny."

"Thanks, Lanny."

"What are you up to in this beautiful day, Chelsea?" asked Lanny.

"Well, you know my Mom's on leave so she's just resting in the house. I got bored with doing nothing in the house so I decided to take a stroll, and somehow I ended up in this bookstore," Chelsea recounted, laughing.

"I see! Well, I don't have much to do this afternoon either. How about we go for some coffee? I do have a lot of stories to tell about your mother."

Lanny's invitation seemed to pique her interest. After all, what's the downside?

"Alright. I'll just buy dinner for her after we finish," Chelsea replied, smiling.

After both Lanny and Chelsea both checked out their items, they went to the nearest coffee shop for their afternoon chat. Lanny, being generous, offered to foot the bill.

"Order anything you like, Chelsea. It's on me," Lanny said.

"Oh no, no, no. It's okay," Chelsea politely refused.

"Don't worry about it. It's a small way of thanking your mother for all that she did for Rodinia and for the world," replied Lanny.

"I can't persuade you otherwise, can I? Oh well, I'll tell Mom what you said. I am sure that she'll be touched."

Lanny immediately replied, "Oh no, no. Please don't. She doesn't need to know. As the Scripture says, if your left hand does a good deed, don't let your right hand know."

"It's true, I guess," Chelsea said hesitantly. but ultimately decided to keep her word. "Alright. I won't tell Mom. But I am thankful for you appreciation. And you will let me repay your kindness next time."

"Sure, if it pleases you. Now, shall we order?"

"Yeah, okay."

Lanny ordered a plain brewed coffee while Chelsea had cappuccino. As they waited for their orders to arrive, Lanny began his tales.

"So, about your mother. I knew her as a prolific lawyer back then. She was one of the brightest minds in the legal profession. She once chaired the Rodinian Bar Association's Committee on Women in the Professions. She's amazing! She did that while she's the chair of the government's public legal assistance agency."

"Wow. I didn't know Mom was such a hotshot even before she came to the States. And it's bizarre to hear that Rodinia has an agency offering free legal services," remarked an awed Chelsea.

"Well, they still have the agency until now. Many agencies in Rodinia were kept intact even when the current regime took over. The only difference is that people can't make FOIA requests and they can't sue their government. Plus, they abolished the human rights office."

Chelsea clicked her tongue in exasperation.

"I know how you feel. That's also what your mother felt and that's why she left Rodinia with you. Because she couldn't stand the bullshit that's happening in her home," Lanny offered a sympathetic ear to Chelsea.

Chelsea sighed. "I know. But I am still appalled with that they Rodinians did to their country. I pity the citizens. I wish they would do something."

"Well, that's the thing. The citizens like what their government is doing, because they don't know that their rights are being violated. They like their Supreme Leader. They feel protected under this rule," Lanny explained.

"Even more despicable. He's operating under the guise of good leadership!"

"I know," Lanny replied sadly. "But, do not worry. I am sure your Mother is doing all she can to change the status quo. She's an exceptional diplomat, after all. If there's anyone who can do miracles, it's your mother."

Chelsea smiled, encouraged by Lanny's assurances. "I hope you're right."

Just in time, the barista delivered their coffee, breaking the heavy conversation between the two. Lanny also ordered croissants for both of them. Their topic of conversation shifted to Lanny's family, the current administration, Chelsea's work and school until they unavoidably went back to her mother's past.

"So, I was just wondering," Chelsea said before drinking her last sip of coffee, "How did you and Mom exactly meet? You never told me earlier."

"Ah, she once attended my lecture in the University of Aldenkirk. She was still a lawyer employed in parliament back then," Lanny recalled fondly.

"Oh really? Mom's an aide in parliament too?" Chelsea said in awe.

"Yes. And she was amazing in every single one. I even heard talk in Aldenkirk that she could someday be Prime Minister. Well, that was before the current regime took over," Lanny said regretfully.

"Wow. Amazing, still," she replied. "So, what happened to your first meeting?"

"As I said, I was giving a lecture about government accountability and your mom approached me right after and peppered me with questions. I've never seen a sharper mind than your mother. I told her I was so disappointed when she got married. Imagine, she had this whole career ahead of her and she chose to settle down with your father! She is miles ahead of him! But I still feel sorry for him after what happened to him though..."

The color in Chelsea's face suddenly drained, disbelief etched in her face.

"Did you say my mother got married?" Chelsea asked pointedly, "...a-a-a-a-nd you know my father?"

"Y-y-essss," Lanny replied hesitantly, afraid that he might have said something inappropriate. "Did I...did I say something wrong?"

Chelsea shook her head, visibly disturbed. "No. It's just it's the first time I've heard of this. About her marriage and my father, I mean."

"Oh, I am so sorry," Lanny apologized sincerely. "I didn't know that you had no idea."

"That's alright," Chelsea wiped the tears that were threatening to fall with the table napkin. "I was just overwhelmed."

"I understand," Lanny placed his hand gently on her arm. "I am sure your mother has her reasons. I'm sure you'll know about it someday."

Chelsea nodded like an obedient child. "I know. I trust her. Whatever it was, it must not be easy for her."

"Exactly."

"But still, I can't help but be curious about my father. About what he's like and what he did, you know? And I don't mean any disrespect for Mom and all the sacrifices that she made for me..."

"Of course. That's natural. Curiosity is etched in our DNA," Lanny comforted her. "And just so you know, I was friends with your father too. Such a good man."

"Thank you," Chelsea said gratefully. "I am lucky to have good parents."

"Indeed," Lanny said. He raised his empty cup of coffee. "Pardon me for this toast so haphazardly done, but I want to raise this cup to your parents."

Chelsea was relieved and her mood lightened by Lanny's kind gesture. She obliged and raised her empty cup as well. "To Mom and Dad."

The two of them clanked their coffee cups before they pretended to drink from it.

"Thank you, Lanny. This has been an enlightening conversation. I've never felt better in years," thanked Chelsea.

"No problem. I am happy to have met you," Lanny said. "As a memento, can we take a selfie?"

"Sure!"

Lanny pulled his phone and took a selfie with her.

"Perfect, we look good," Lanny admired the picture.

"Let me see?" Chelsea tried to take a peek and Lanny obliged. "I agree, that's a great photo. Can you please send it to my email?"

"Sure!" Lanny opened his email app and sent it to Chelsea.

A few seconds later, he sent the same picture to his contact named Eagle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said in my notes above, there isn't much fluff in here, just moving this story along. But I promise to put as much fluff as I can and speed up Bill and Hillary's second meeting.
> 
> And Neil might probably reappear.


	25. Outbursts

**_Supreme Leader's Office, Government Complex,_ ** **_Aldenkirk, Rodinia, July 21, 2009_ **

A new email message didn't immediately get Bill's attention as he was reading the report gathered by Rodinia's intelligence per his instructions to John Podesta. The report confirmed that John had been suspecting: that the CIA had been conducting an influence campaign on some regions of the country and at the same time, spies from the United States had infiltrated the highest echelons of the Rodinian government. The second part, the confirmation of the traitor's existence, wasn't really a surprise. He knew all along who the traitor was, but he could not simply disclose what he knew, otherwise he would be revealing himself to John as the mysterious soldier who attempted to rescue Hillary.

Bill's brows furrowed, thinking deeply. How could he weed out John without revealing what he knew? He needed to act fast. It would only be a matter of time before the Rodinian intelligence figure out that John was the traitor and possible uncover his conversations with US officials. No, he needed to get to John first before the Rodinian intelligence gets him.

But how?

That same question had been bugging him for weeks now, and now matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't think of anything to keep John from talking. Permanently. 

Bill blew his breath exasperatedly. There was no use. He absolutely no idea what to do with John. All he knew that was that shouldn't stay long.

For the meantime, he decided to give up on formulating a plan. He'll figure something out pretty soon.

Throwing the folder into his desk unceremoniously, Bill noticed a bunch of new emails when he turned his head to the direction of his computer. A few red !'s caught his attention and so he read them first.

Urgent emails from his ministers were filled with meetings he needed to attend and proposals he needed to review or approve. It was already sunset, so he decided to take care of them first thing in the morning the next day.

The he turned his attention to the non-urgent emails. An email from one of the spies closest to him caught his interest. That said spy was one of his best, and whenever he sends him something, it was always good intel.

Bill cracked his knuckles in anticipation. He opened the email and was curious to find the email empty save for a picture attachment. Bill downloaded the file and clicked it open.

He was expecting some document or a map or a surveilance footage to greet him, but what he saw knocked the air off his lungs.

It was the clearest photo he had of her daughter yet.

Chelsea Rodham, smiling under the bright umbella outside a coffee shop in Washington D.C., made the strongman of Rodinia crumble into tears.

Bill, still shaking from the shock and awe and a million other emotions, pulled his chair closer to the computer and pulled his hand up to carress his daughter's face on the screen. He could clearly see his features and those of Hillary's in daughter's face. Her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips, her ears...one by one, he identified which parent she inherited it from. He felt a little embarrassed for himself. He was supposed to be doing such silly games on a baby, but he never saw what Chelsea looked like when she was younger.

Seeing Chelsea wearing her most beautiful smile, sitting with Lanny, gave Bill a lot of hope.

He was going to meet her real soon.

**_Walmart Supermarket, Washington D.C., July 31, 2009_ **

Hillary's arm was healing nicely, and for the first time in weeks, she was able to go out and do her groceries. Chelsea had briefly returned to New York to consult with her OB-GYN but she would return in a few days with Marc, whom Hillary would host dinner. Attending to her mother's needs kept Chelsea from fully celebrating her engagement and pregnancy. But with Hillary almost completely healed, they could finally let the happiness kick-in.

As Hillary went through the grocery aisles, she was met by grateful and sometimes starstrucked shoppers who stopped their shopping to greet her or take a photo with her. Hillary, of course, obliged but after a while, she found the attention cumbersome as she couldn't shop without anyone stopping her.

Finally, after a full three hours, Hillary was able to check out her groceries. Her new security detail, who she hired a few weeks ago, carried her grocery bags to her car. Even on her way out, she was stopped by incoming shoppers who were asking for photos with her. Others simply applauded or cheered as they passed by her.

As she bid one well-wisher goodbye, she thought she saw a familiar face in her peripheral vision. She turned around to check if she was right, and indeed she was. It was one of the Rodinian refugees who attended the State Department reception for her. She had half a mind to greet him, but she her limbs were begging her to go to the car already. She made a mental note to talk to him if ever she saw him again in DC.

Just as Hillary turned around and left, Lanny, who was holding a pack of spaghetti in his hands, reminded himself to tell Eagle about her excursion.

**_The Office of Congressman Neil Bosworth, Capitol Hill, Washington DC, August 1, 2009_ **

Bob Gates, the secretary of defense, and Tom Donilon, the national security adviser, were constant fixtures in the White House, but not on Capitol Hill, which was why several people turned their heads to their direction when they approached Neil Bosworth's receptionist, who was strucked to see the two men.

"H-h-how can I help you?" the receptionist stammered.

"We'd like to speak with the congressman. Privately, please," Bob requested quietly but forcefully.

The receptionist shook his head nervously. "I-I-I'm sorry, but Congressman Bosworth is in a meeting right now with Congresswoman Tamayo. But he's free after this so maybe I can schedule you right after..."

"No," Bob said firmly. "This cannot wait."

"I cannot interrupt his meeting, Sir..."

"Tell him it's us," said Tom. "He will make time."

The receptionist gulped. "Alright, Sir. I cannot make any promises though."

He knocked on the door of his boss's office and took a peek inside. There, he saw Neil still talking with Congresswoman Tamayo in the reception. The receptionist waited the conversation to mellow a bit before he cleared his throat, interrupting the two representatives.

"Sir", the receptionist said apologetically, "Secretary Gates and Mr. Donilon is outside. They wish to speak to you." Neil's face hardened. He turned to his colleague.

"Amy, I'm sorry. Can we postpone this? I have to speak with Gates and Donilon."

"Oh, okay," replied a confused Tamayo. "White House business."

"Yeah," was all Neil could think of saying. "I'll have my scheduler call yours to make an appointment. I'm really sorry for cutting out meeting short."

"It's okay." Tamayo stood up and showed herself to the door, obviously miffed. "I'll be waiting for your appointment."

"Thank you. Bye."

The receptionist let Congresswoman Tamayo out and let Bob and Tom in. Neil cordially led the two men to his office and locked the door. "Gentlemen," Neil offered the two seats in front of his desk as he sat in his large chair. "What brings you here?"

"We're here to give you a personal update, and I'm afraid to say things are looking grim," said Bob. Neil's foreheard furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Lanny Davis has been spotted in DC," said Tom.

Neil racked his brain for information on Lanny Davis. "Good Lord."

"Precisely," said Bob.

"But what's the concern? I am sure he's invited to Hillary's homecoming at State," reasoned Neil.

"Yes, but he hasn't left yet. We are concerned that he'll try to make contact to Hillary while she's recovering," said Tom.

"Or Chelsea," added Bob. "Remember, he already made contact to Chelsea in Philly."

"So, what do you want me to do?" Neil asked.

"Convince Hillary to go to New York to your parents in Missouri," said Bob.

Neil scoffed. "And what reason shall I tell her, then? That 'Hey, we saw some spy probably out to get you, and oh by the way, we are spying on you for years'? You are just probably being paranoid. Your mere suspicions aren't enough to cause Hillary more pain", he said firmly. "Davis is just probably here for a holiday or work-related travel."

Bob and Tom remained unconvinced.

"I still think he's up to something," maintained Tom.

"But Chelsea isn't even always in here," rebutted Neil. "And Hillary...she always has security with her no matter where she goes."

Tom seemed to be pacified a little. "I think we can breathe a little bit."

Bob shook his head. "I disagree. I think we must take no chances. We cannot let Davis get in touch with either Hillary or Chelsea."

"I am aware of your concern but I do not think this is grave enough to cause us some alarm," Neil countered. "Hillary has been through so much in the past weeks. I do not want to cause her more discomfort."

"There will even be more discomfort if we do nothing!" Bob retorted forcefully. "Maybe you have forgotten that Clinton -through Davis - is trying to get to Chelsea and Hillary, and believe me, one of them will follow him."

"ENOUGH!" Neil banged his desk, not realizing he stood up. The mere mention of the name 'Clinton' was kryptonite to him, ever since Tom told him in the tarmac that his girlfriend had sex with her ex. Every mention of that bastard's name made him feel inadequate, knowing he could never replace him in Hillary's heart.

"Neil..." Tom said, worried.

"I know what you're trying to make me do: to obey your whims by making me jealous. Newsflash: I don't need your coaxing to make me feel like it. Every second, I live up with the the fact that Hillary will never love me as much as she loved that son of a bitch. I don't need any more reminding from you!" Neil raged.

Bob was left stunned by Neil's outbursts.

"Neil..." Bob said faintly.

"No!" Neil slammed his desk again. "From now on, I decide what's good for Hillary! For years, I've been obeying what the government has been telling me to do! Lying for a good ten years isn't easy! And if Hillary finds out, it will certainly be yhe end of us, and I will let that happen!"

"But..." Bob tried to interject.

"Stop. I won't participate anymore!" Neil declared forcefully. "You know where the door is."

Still stunned by Neil's sudden declaration, Tom and Bob left Neil's office. Once the two men were gone, Neil dialled Hillary's number in his office phone.

"Hi Babe...it's me, Neil...what do you say about us having dinner tonight? Yeah?...I'll pick you up at six thirty..."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're not getting impatient with the timeline of this story. I want to get down on every small detail that's why each chapter moves so slowly. I know you are excited for Bill and Hill's second meeting but I can't just let them BOOM - oh there they are. I need to work the kinks down on their hopefully epic meeting


	26. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize for the long delay :( As I've said before, I am going through a life-changing process and the past few weeks have been hectic.
> 
> Second, this is a relatively short chapter. More on that on the notes below.

_**Hillary Rodham's Residence, Washington D.C., August 1, 2009** _

Neil looked like a dead man walking by the time he picked Hillary up in her house for their dinner. He didn't know why he bothered working in 5 when he could have gone home early to compose himself before proverbially going to his own execution.

When Bob and Tom visited him in his office earlier, he abruptly decided that he would break up with her. For a quite a while now, he had an inkling that she was just using her unannulled marriage with Bill Clinton as a reason not to accept his marriage proposal. She was a high-level US diplomat and he was a US congressman; they could have easily revoked her first marriage if she wanted to, but she chose not to. Neil thought that her decision not to lift a finger to dissolve her marriage was just a cultural thing, or had something to do with Chelsea. But with the devastating news of her willingly sleeping with her husband in Rodinia, his suspicions were all but confirmed.

He tried to hide his hurt, to be strong for her and to be there when she needed him the most, but he was human too. He wanted to be loved as much as he loved her. While Hillary never failed to satisfy his needs and to be a loving girlfriend to him, she was yet to show him that her heart was fully on to him and him alone, and that fact tore him to pieces.

Dread filled Neil's heart as he approached Hillary's porch. When he was in her doorstep, he rang her doorbell once, and he was met with a "Hold on !" from inside. After a few moments, when Hillary opened her door, she was fixing her left earring and invited him inside.

As soon as she saw how horrible Neil looked, her face fell.

"Honey, are you alright?" she said, concerned, as she sat next to him in the sofa. "Rough day?"

"You can say that again," Neil sighed exasperatedly.

"Maybe you can just stay here for the night instead of going out. I can cook pasta for the two of us. And then probably coffee after," she offered.

Neil looked grimmer than before. "No. It has to happen tonight."

Hillary scrunched her forehead in confusion. "What are you talking about? What has to happen tonight?"

Neil sighed again. He pulled every ounce of courage to keep himself going. He looked at her directly in the eye, and the gesture stirred fear in Hillary's heart. 

"Neil," she said, "what's going on?"

"Hillary," Neil held her hand, "I have something to tell you, something I should have told you years ago."

Hillary had a faint idea what he might say, and she feared that it was exactly what we was going to say, but she chose to suppress her emotions. 

"I am listening," was her careful reply. 

Neil took a deep breath, silently praying that everything would go well. 

"Honey," he began, "I haven't been honest to you. Not at all."

"Go on..." she encouraged him. 

"I...I had been passing information about you to the US government for years now," he confessed. 

It wasn't the first time Hillary was confronted with that fact; she had discovered his secret weeks ago when she read his phone and saw the text message from Tom Donilon. Nevertheless, she was angered and stunned as much as if she had known of it for the first time. Her already stony face hardened at the revelation.

"I know it's illegal, but when I was approached years ago, I knew it was necessary to protect you, especially how close you were to the Rodinian Supreme Leader," Neil tried to justify her actions. 

Hillary was torn between rage and hurt, suddenly feeling the full brunt of her boyfriend's betrayal of her trust. 

"Why?" Hillary said those words calmly but forcefully. 

Neil couldn't look at Hillary anymore. 

"Jealousy. I knew despite being away from your husband for years, you still harbored feelings for him. You still celebrate your wedding anniversary. I know about it, Hillary. I know everything. And it made me jealous and insecure, because I know I will never receive the same devotion from you. I will always be second to William Jefferson Clinton."

"STOP!" She interrupted him. She was already in tears before he could even finish. "Neil, after all that I have done for you, after all the love I have given you, you still thought of me like that?!" she exploded on him, not noticing that she pulled away from him and stood up. "What else do you want from me, you selfish bastard!"

Neil recaptured her hand and cried on it, kissing her knuckles. "No, Hillary. It wasn't you! You have loved me more than I deserve to be. You're right. I was being selfish..."

"You couldn't even respect what I had with my husband, Neil. And what's worse, you betrayed my trust!" she spat. 

Neil couldn't refute her accusations. He simply sat there, receving her every punch and blow. It hurt so much to hear Hillary say those things, but somehow, it eased the guilt that had been bottling up inside him. Hillary screamed and cried at Neil, but it didn't feel good when she got everything off her chest. It still hurt. The thorns in her heart were still pricking and tearing it apart.

Closure. She needed closure.

But she may not get it anytime soon.

Exhausted, physically and emotionally, Hillary ordered Neil to leave her house. But before he could reach for the door, something suddenly came into her mind.

"The ring," she blurted out.

"What?" Neil turned around confused. Hillary was meant to ask for the ring that was being referred to in the text she read from his phone, but she wasn't sure what exactly what "ring" meant, nor did she want to ask him for its meaning and reveal that she had read his phone. No, she wouldn't let him have the upper hand this time. She'll probably tell him that eventually, but not tonight.

"I...I remembered a ring. In my finger. When I passed out in Aldenkirk," she spitballed, but somehow, it felt like it was true. Neil's face fell further than it already had, and his reaction told Hillary that she was threading in the right direction.

"What about it?" he replied.

"Where is it?" she asked. "I didn't have a ring when I came to in Ramstein and it wasn't mentioned when I was interviewed by the FBI for their invesigation. If you are working with the government to surveil me, I am sure you are aware about the whereabouts of the ring."

Neil opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"I...I..." he struggled to answer.

With every second that Neil chose not to answer her question, Hillary's heartache only worsened. A look of pain and despair was clearly etched on hair face.

What was keeping him from answering?

Hillary's fears were realized when Neil tearfully shook his head multiple times, his body almost failing him as he felt all the energy drain from him, leaning on the door for support. He cried and cried and said sorry in between, but he never gave Hillary the answer she was asking for.

If Hillary's world wasn't shattered yet, it was now. It was one thing to betray her trust once, but to do so in a second time knowing full well that she was already hurt and broken, done by the man whom she thought loved her dearly, it was beyond devastating. Her world had suddenly stopped that she forgot to breathe, and the lack of air in her lungs made her collapse on the floor, gasping desperately for much-needed air.

Neil, still sobbing, rushed to her aid and tried to give first aid, but he had no idea what to do. He was frantically calling her name, but she was just gasping and sobbing. Knowing that he couldn't do anything, he left Hillary on the floor and called for 9/11. When the operator answered his call, he was shaking but he was giving direct and precise responses to the operator's questions. Once in a while, he would look at her direction and check on her. She was still sobbing, but she was beginning to look weak. Neil's heart raced. Thankfully, the operator wrapped up the call and told him that the medics will be there within five minutes.

With first responders already on the way, Neil was met with another blow when he turned around to Hillary.

She was already unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said, this is relatively short because the emotions are so high and inserting another scene would kill the intensity of this chapter. So I hope you understand why I have to cut this short.
> 
> To all the readers who still read this (lol, it's running looooooooong) thank you thank you thank you! I'd swim the oceans to beg Hillary to make another greeting for you! :))))


	27. Closer

_**Bill Clinton's Private Quarters, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, August 3, 2009** _

The veins on Bill's temple were close to exploding as he heard from his source in DC that medics were dispatched to Hillary's house, and she was almost hospitalized, just because she insisted not to be taken. Bill was told that what happened wasn't really serious. Nevertheless, he was deeply agitated by the incident. It wasn't until he was told of the full circumstances that he finally exploded on the phone.

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD," he screamed as he paced back and forth in his quarters. "THAT SELFISH RAT!"

Bill's source waited for him to calm down a little bit before proceeding.

"Sir," the source said, "may I continue?" Bill took a deep breath, willing himself to tamper his rage.

"Go ahead."

"Thank you, Sir," the source replied. "Regarding your daughter, Sir. I have invited her to another meeting once she returns to DC. She had gone back to New York to attend some matters on her wedding and her pregnancy, but she'll be back to her mother's house to be with her."

"How long will Chelsea be in DC?" Bill asked.

"I have no idea, Sir."

"Do you have any idea when the wedding will be?"

"The tabloids say it will be on July of next year, Sir."

"I see," Bill said thoughtfully. "Can you get yourself invited?"

"I will try my best, Sir," said the source. "Will you see her at her wedding?"

"No. It's too risky. But I do want to see her before then."

"But what if she runs away and talks to the press?"

"She won't," Bill replied reassuringly. "She'll be protective of her mother's interests, even if she gets hurt in the process. She won't let someone like me tarnish her mother's legacy," he said with a raw pain in his voice.

"I trust your judgment, Sir. But what if Hillary finds out about our plan before you can even see your daughter?"

"Then we try again "Chelsea needs to know the truth. She needs to know the truth that her mother hid from her," Bill said not without a hint of malice. "Hillary trumped me once. I cannot let that go unmatched."

Unbeknownst to Bill, the source felt conflicted. He knew his boss far more than any loyal aide claimed to be. He knew that Bill's plan will only end up hurting himself, regardless of the outcome. Sometimes, he wondered if his boss was doing that to punish himself on purpose. He was concered about Bill's feelings, but he never dared to speak about it openly.

"As you wish, Sir," said the source.

"Alright," said Bill. "And before I forget, I want you to hurry up with your moves. We do not know yet when Hillary will decide to return to her work. I want to minimize the impact on the tension between our countries, and it won't help if Hillary is back being Secretary of State."

"I understand, Sir."

"Good." Bill ended the call and placed his cellphone on his bedside table, where a progress report on a new nuclear reactor was sitting. He took the report, and gently opened it, feeling a little sick of himself.

_**Starbucks Coffee, Connecticut Avenue, Washington DC, August 15, 2009** _

Chelsea immediately stood up from her seat and approached the bar when the barista called her name. The barista happily gave her the coffee she ordered and showered her and her mother with praises. She tried hard not to squirm in embarrassment, but because she didn't like it but because she did not deserve the recognition. Given her newfound popularity in the press, it was hard to remain unspotted in DC. Once every so often, a random jogger or a tourist would stop her and ask for a photo. She would happily oblige, but being a private person all her life, it was beginning to be cumbersome. Once Chelsea had her coffee in her hand, she turned around to go back to her seat.

To her surprise, Lanny was already sitting next to the seat she just vacated.

"Hi, Chelsea. I'm sorry I was late. I had to drop off my wife to the airport," Lanny apologized.

"Oh, it's nothing," Chelsea assured. "Mom's at the State Department for a meeting. You know her. She's on leave but her work is like an itch that she has to scratch."

Lanny chuckled. "Oh, Hillary. Ever the workaholic. She's like that, even in her younger days."

"I know! She would sometimes go to work being sick. I remember someone had to force her to forego a press conference because she kept coughing."

"Oh, Hillary, Hillary, Hillary," Lanny said fondly. "She's one hell of a workhorse."

"She is, she is," Chelsea said, sipping her coffee.

"So, how are you? How's the wedding preparations going? And the pregnancy?" Lanny asked with great interest.

"That reminds me, don't tell my doctor I am having coffee today," she replied, giggling. “She’ll go nuts if she finds out.”

Lanny mimicked a zipping motion on his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

"I am glad,” she replied. “So anyway, the doctor says she’s happy with the progress of my pregnancy. She says I should better watch my blood sugar so I won’t have gestational diabetes. She doesn’t like me having coffee every so often. This is my third coffee this week.”

“My, my. What a hard-headed patient. When will you know it it’s a boy or a girl?”

"Around the fifth month.” “I see. Do you have any preference?”

Chelsea shook her head. “No. I just want a healthy, happy baby.”

“Awwwww,” Lanny said. “What about your wedding?”

“Well, the tabloids are right. We’re planning to have it on July next year,” she excitedly replied.

“Do you have a venue yet?”

“We’re looking at Rhinebeck.”

“Wow. That’s place is nothing to sneeze at,” remarked Lanny.

“I know,” Chelsea said. “I told Marc I am okay with a simple wedding, but his mom’s an ex-congresswoman so they have quite a guest list.”

"And your Mom is no commoner either. She’s the current Secretary of State and the most popular political figure in the country!”

"Well, Mom doesn’t like to mingle with the Washington elites,” Chelsea contradicted him. “She has done that over the years, but believe me, she doesn’t like it one bit. She’d rather snuggle on her couch and watch TV.”

“I can sympathize with your Mother,” said Lanny, laughing.

"She once brought me to a gala and I hated it,” Chelsea recalled. “Never went to another gala again.”

“Atta girl!” Lanny was howling.

"What is it that you wanted to show me, by the way?" Chelsea switched the topic of their conversation. "You seem excited in your last message."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah." Lanny opened his bag and fished a leather notebook from inside. He opened the notebook in front of her, and inside was a photograph and a letter. Both items had seen better days, their surfaces yellowing from old age. The photo showed her young parents, dressed in hippie clothes, smiling brightly towards the camera. Her mom was wearing a pair of Coke bottle glasses, while her father was sporting a thick beard which almost covered his entire face. They were so young and so in love. The affection between them was very palpable.

"I found these when I was organizing my things," explained Lanny. "There's a picture your parents, and a letter from your Mother to your Father."

Chelsea's eyes were wide as sauces, her face white as if she had seen a ghost.

"W-w-where did you get this?" she struggled to say.

"The picture was my own personal copy. I took that photo myself and gave your Mom and Dad a copy each," Lanny said, hoping that Chelsea didn't notice the slight hesitation in his voice. "As for the letter, when your father returned a book he borrowed from me, I found this folded in between the pages. I never got to give it to him because I switched schools."

"I see," Chelsea said, trembling. "May I...?"

"Of course, of course."

Chelsea shakingly took the photo and the letter. She put the photo down, having seen enough of it already, and opened the letter. Inside was a short message scrawled in handwriting that was unmistakably Hillary's:

_Dearest Billy,_

_I don't know how else to say it, but being with you, even just for a short time, made me find happiness I never thought was possible. I am incredibly blessed to have met you, and I don't think I have ever felt so loved._

_Billy, I hope you will never ever get tired of hearing I love you, because I do, and nothing will ever change that. You have been my best friend, my best debate partner, my cheerleader, my. # 1 critic, my ever reliable study buddy, my chauffeur, my housemate, my pizza crust finisher and most of all...the person I love the most. Isn't amazing how our staring match in the library ended up so splendidly?_

_Please, Billy, never ever let me go, because I'll never ever let you go. I'm in for the long haul, and I hope you are too._

_A million times love,_

_Hilly_

"Wow," was all Chelsea could say.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Normally I would find this letter cheesy but cliche but I feel so touched."

"That's your Mom for you," said Lanny. "Regardless, you Mom is very eloquent"

"Indeed," she said. "This love letter is something."

"Classic Hillary. Never afraid to speak out her mind."

"Yeah," Chelsea muttered as she gave the items back to Lanny, but pushed them back to her. Chelsea sat there, confused. "Aren't you going to...?"

"Take them," said Lanny. "They are of more of value to you than it is to me."

"Thank you," Chelsea held the letter and the photos to her heart, her unshed tears pooling in her eyes. "This means so much to me."

"You're welcome. I'm glad to hear that," said Lanny before his face turned into a more serious expression. "Listen, that's not the only reason I called you here. I have something to tell you as well."

Chelsea straightened up. "What is it?"

Lanny bowed a little bit and toned his voice down. "For months, I have been been in touch with a man who claims to be your father."

Chelsea gasped when she heard what Lanny said. She prayed her heart wouldn't explode from the suspense.

"At first, I didn't want to believe it because I thought he was dead. Nobody outside Rodinia would think he's still alive because the government is sure to go after him the moment your Mom left Rodinia," said Lanny.

"But one day," he continued, "this man found my email address. He was claiming to be your father. I refused to entertain him, but he was persistent. I finally realized that he was the real deal when one day, he decided to tell me a little bit more about himself and recounted a conversation I had with him. It struck me that he was able to recall perfectly what we had talked about, and so I decided to take a chance at him. For the first time, I sent a reply."

"I asked him where he was, but he wouldn't tell because he was concerned about his safety. But he did tell me that he was able to escape out of Rodinia with Russia's help. The Russian ambassador once toured his prison and heard his story. The ambassador took pity on him and offered to let him live in Russia. Of course, when Russia says it, Rodinia cannot refuse, so he was out of Russia. Though he was granted asylum, Russia forbade him to leave. Despite that restriction, he got out of Russia and is now living in another country. Now Rodinia and Russia are looking for him."

Lanny's story left Chelsea breathless and wanting. She clutched her heart, overwhelmed by the incredible story of her father.

"Y-y-you found him. You found Dad," said Chelsea.

"He's out there," Lanny said. "And there's nothing he wanted more in the world than meeting you. He waited for years to see you, Chelsea. And he's willing to risk being arrested if he could just have a glimpse of you."

The prospect of her father being caught and locked up in Rodinia triggered Chelsea's daughterly instinct.

"As much as I want to see him, I don't want him to go back to that awful place," she said. "I would give anything to see him, but I don't want to ruin his life for something so fleeting."

"But Chelsea, this is what your father wanted..."

Chelsea shook her head. "I want that too. More than you can possibly imagine. But I will not be the reason why my father will be put in harm's way. Perhaps Mom can arrange for Dad's asylum in the US."

The look of panic was evident on Larry's face. "No! No! No! Your father doesn't want your mother to know."

"Why not?" she inquired.

"Your parents separated in bad terms," Larry answered. "He cheated on her several times and your mother was blaming herself for her inability to produce a child for his womanizing. But make no mistake: You father loves you, and after all these years, after all that had happened, your father loves your mother too."

Chelsea took a moment to internalize everything Lanny had said. Suddenly, in a normal, hot, sunny afternoon in DC, she was faced with probably the most consequential decision in her life. Either option she chose, the consequence would be devastating.

The stakes only got higher when she saw her mother walking around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are closer and closer to the anticipated reveal and the second Billary meeting! I have to admit I was having a hard time thinkig about how I was going to make it possible but constant thinking in the shower paid off! LOL. Chelsea and Bill will one day meet, and not without a bit of trouble of course.
> 
> I had to make sure Hillary and Neil have broken off before I set the wheels in motion. Because we don't want a nuisance when our favorite couple makes loves again, do we? 
> 
> The next few chapters will concentrate on bringing them all together in one place. This should be fun.*wink*


	28. Return

_**T** _ _**he Oval Office, The White House, August 17, 2009** _

Never underestimate the imagination of the DC press. Weeks into Hillary's indefinite leave and just months since the new administration had taken office, the speculation regarding Hillary's political future was at a fever pitch. Some pundits had speculated that she would run for Senate to unseat the unpopular senator Rick Lazio, or she would probably be picked as Obama's running mate in 2012 instead of Vice President Joe Biden.

And nothing could stop the press from reading the proverbial tea leaves when the White House released the president's schedule. For the first time Hillary's arrival, she and the President would have a one-on-one meeting at the White House. A few weeks days ago, the President's scheduler called Hillary to invite her to a visit to the White House. She was told that the President wants to check on her and have a light catch-up. Hillary was touched by her boss's gesture and so she happily accepted the invitation.

With the media elites breathing at her neck, watching her every move, Hillary shrugged them all off when she arrived at the White House steps to see the President.

When she arrived, Obama greeted her enthusiastically. Well, not as enthusiastic as Biden who jumped when he saw her. But she felt loved all the same. All of her colleagues in the White House were there, including the entire National Security Council.

"Glad to see you again, Hill." Obama hung his arm around his shoulder as he accompanied her inside the Oval.

"I'm delighted to be here, Mr. President. The world didn't blow up when I was on leave, did it?" Hillary joked.

"Hey, we're not doofuses!" yelled Tom Donilon from behind. Hillary froze under Obama's tender hands. Tom was one of the people Neil was talking to when the latter was still spying on her. She wondered if he already knew.

"We are competent as hell, thank you very much," Bob Gates joined in the cheering and the jeering. Hillary didn't notice him until she heard his voice from behind.

"The gang is thrilled to see you up and about, Hill. They can't wait to have you back on the Council?" said Obama.

"Was that because you are all lost without me?" taunted Hillary.

"Hell no!" was the unified response by the men in the room, but Ambassador to the UN Susan Riced begged to differ.

"Didn't we had to adjourn early once because nobody brought Hillary's binder?" Susan reminded them.

Thag elicited a loud howl from Hillary. Obama went on to tell her the whole story and how they were indeed lost without her guidance. It made the guys appreciate her more.

"The hardest working workhorse I have ever met," said Obama. "And that includes Michelle. Don't tell her I said that," he added in a whisper, and Hillary giggled silently.

Obama, once everybody had settled down, had asked everyone else, including the Vice President, to leave him and Hillary alone. It wasn't the first time that he had asked a one-on-one meeting with her. But Hillary felt a sense of urgency in him.

He led her to the sofa set and asked his assistant, who was at the door, for two cups of coffee. He settled on one of the sofa chairs while Hillary sat on the couch. He crossed his leg into a four-figure and pored over her.

"I am sorry about the incident a few days ago," said Obama, not wasting any second to address the biggest story on her since she came home. "Are you alright now?"

"Yes, Mr. President," she responded, trying to maintain a brave front when in fact she was still shaken by her break-up with Neil. "Thank you. I am quite fine now. I was just fatigued."

"I know your body can recover Hill. You're a thoroughbred. What I mean is that...how are you getting by? I know you and Neil have been doing well for years."

It wasn't Obama's nature to meddle into his subordinate's personal affairs. In fact, he was criticized publicly for being aloof. But Hillary took this uncharacteristic move as a sign of concern from him.

"I am managing, Sir," Hillary looked down on the carpet. "It wasn't easy. But I am doing fine. And I am raring to go back to work, Sir..."

"Oh, no, no, no." Obama held up his right hand and shook his head. "I know how workaholic you are, and I know how you miss representing the US to the world stage, but I cannot just let you go back to work set. I want you to be happy and healthy when you return, so take all the time that you need. That's the least that I can give to you."

Hillary smiled at the President, her hand on her chest, "Thank you, Sir."

Not long after that, the door of the Oval Office had opened, and an intern was seen carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and sugar. Hillary was grateful for this interruption. While she appreciated the vote of support from her boss, she wasn't entirely comfortable talking about her personal life with him. The intern laid the coffee on the table in front of them and, taking a break from protocol, asked for a selfie with Hillary which she happily obliged.

"That's going down on your permanent record," Obama deadpanned.

The intern froze, her face white as sheet, but Obama broke into laughs.

"I kid, I kid," he said, much to the intern's relief. "Okay, you can get back to your desk now."

The intern thanked both Obama and Hillary, who was stifling her giggles, and left the President and the Secretary of State to themselves.

****

As Hillary emerged from the Oval Office, the sight of National Security Advisor Tom Donilon didn't escape her. He was sitting at the Oval Office reception, seemingly eager for the meeting with Obama to finish.

"Hi Tom," Hillary greeted him, trying not to sound suspicious of him. "The President is all yours now."

"Ah, no. I didn't come here to have a meeting with the President. I actually wanted to invite you to my office for a brief chat," he said.

Hillary saw that coming from a mile away, so she tried her very best to act surprised. "Oh, okay!" She put her hand on her chest to appear the least bit of shocked.

Tom led Hillary across the West Wing hallway up to his office, where several national security aides were huddling. One flick of Tom's hand and they were all gone. Tom motioned her to sit at the sofa at the right side of the room where the aides used to be.

"I'm sorry if I don't have refreshments for you," said Tom.

"It's alright. I'm perfectly good," she said.

Tom folded his hands into prayer, ready to get down to business. "I know you have an idea why I called you here," he said, addressing the elephant in the room that stood glaringly between them.

"Yes," she replied, miffed. "And I'd like to hear your side before I tell the President about this. This is a clear violation of the Fourth Amendment," she threatened him.

"I regret that you found out this way. But I don't regret doing it."

"No. You regret that I found out at all," she corrected.

"Does it even matter what I regret," he deflected.

"It does, because it demonstrates your guilt," she said, hitting the point. "And you have none."

"Look, Hillary. I am sorry that this happened. I really am. But I am doing this for the safety of the United States..."

"Ah yes. Use national security for your alibi. Classic," she shot back in a mocking tone. "

"Hillary," said Tom, his voice almost begging, "I am trying to mend fences with you. I do not want our relationship to be strained."

"Then why did you surveil me without a FISA warrant?" asked Hillary testily.

Tom took a deep breath. "Hillary, it wasn't just us. You know we trust you, but this has been going on for several administrations now."

Hillary was startled. She thought it was only when she became Secretary of State that she had been surveilled.

"Previous Secretaries of State, Defense and National Security Advisors had been watching your move," supplied Tom. "Ever since the US found out that Bill Clinton was the second in command in Rodinia.

In other words, 1996. She had been spied on since 1996.

Hillary's heart sank. It seemed that association with Bill Clinton, even though she hadn't made contact with him for years, was enough for government to suspect him.

But she didn't want to dwell in it at that moment.

"Rodinia," she said. "Tell me what you know aboutRodinia."

"Everything, to put it succinctly," Tom answered. "We know all of your activities, even inside the prison cell. I wouldn't tell you how we knew, because it can jeopardize our sources. But we know."

Everything. Even inside the prison cell. They knew everything even inside the prison cell. The thought was enough to drain Hillary of color and feeling.

Tom seemed to know what she was thinking. What event that she was thinking. It was hard to miss, really. But he didn't press further, seeing how distressed she already was.

So they knew. They knew about what she did in Rodinia. They knew that she had almost sold America to her husband at his first touch. She simply stared at the windows as she crumbled in embarrassment.

"You were one of the finest patriots out there, Hillary," said Tom in an attempt to comfort her. "You didn't sell out America."

"You and I know that I might as well did," she replied, her hands clenched and her tears starting to pool.

"If Bill Clinton wasn't your husband..."

"But he is," she insisted. "And despite the time and distance that separated us, nothing had changed between us," she said out loud, astounded that she finally acknowledge the truth that she had tried to suppress for years.

"Hillary, hearing you say what you said in the courtroom in Aldenkirk, it made me feel proud as an American and your compatriot," Tom told her.

But Hillary refused to heed her colleague's words. No. Nothing could ever change her opinion of herself.

"I better go," she said and went for the door.

"Wait, Hillary," Tom stopped her. "The ring."

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"I know you wanted to know about the ring," Tom said. "Neil told me."

Her silence indicated a resounding yes.

Tom stood up and caught up with her. He reached for his pocket and produced a small ziplock bag. Inside was a tarnished ring.

"We found it before the FBI could their hands on this," he said. "I was able to convince my colleagues that this should belong to you. I am sorry we took it."

Any restraint that Hillary was keeping broke when she was presented with the ring. So, it wasn't some dream that Bill gave her his ring. Despite the spectacle in the courtroom and in jail, his feelings were the same, and he showed her, through that ring, that he was still very much in love with her.

"Thank you," she tearily gave Tom her thanks as she took the ring and pressed it close to her heart. "This means a lot to me."

"I don't deserve your thanks, Hillary. You deserve ours," Tom said.

Hillary was touched by Tom's words, but she didn't dare show it. She didn't want to give him the semblance that he was off the hook just because he returned her ring, but she wasa still grateful nevertheless. Quietly, she left Tom's office, not removing her hand from her heart.

_**Gate 59, Heathrow Airport, London, August 19, 2009** _

Chelsea sat at the departure longue at Heathrow, waiting for her flight to Italy. She held the picture of her mother and father in her hands, adoring their youthful vide and lovesick looks. In just a couple of days, she would meet her father soon.

She flew to London to attend some paperwork at Oxford, and  then she used that as a ruse to leave the country and meet her father. She told her mother that she would simply visit Oxford for some paperwork (which she did) and she would be on a short European holiday. As Lanny instructed her, she needed to fly to Italy first and then he would rendezvous with her there and then fly to wherever her father was. He warned her that it had to be done in secrecy and she must follow every instruction, to which she was willing to oblige.

Her wedding guest list wasn't finalized yet, but she told Marc that she was planning to invite her father. When asked how she would invite him, she told him that she would be meeting him overseas, much to Marc's surprise. Thankfully, Marc didn't press further. He agreed to invite Chelsea's dad, and she was grateful for it.

And so, Chelsea asked her wedding coordinator to print a sample invitation. When she got the copy, she wrote down "Dad" on the blank reserved for his name and brought it with her in London, hoping that she could give it to him, and hopefully, he would accept the invitation. It was a longshot, given that he had to hide from the Russians and the Rodinians.

Chelsea touched her father's face in the photo once more. She had never felt more excited. She was more excited for this than her own wedding. 

"Happy birthday, Dad," she whispered for the first time in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so damn close in that much-awaited meeting! I think we're just a chapter away :)


	29. Race

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us not prolong the agony, ok?

**_Arrivals Area, Marco Polo International Airport, Venice, Italy, August 20, 2009_ **

Chelsea scoured the unfamiliar surroundings of the Marco Polo Airport. With her heart pounding against her chest, she cautiously traversed the airport for any signs of Lanny's presence. Fifteen minutes of waiting in the arrival area made Chelsea think she was duped into coming here by Lanny. Or maybe this was an ambush. She was starting to regret that she had made this risky decision when a familiar voice called her from behind.

"Chelsea! Chelsea! It's me, Lanny!"

Chelsea turned around and to her relief, she saw Lanny waving at her. There was a sense of urgency in his face that made her heart sink.

She didn't like what she was seeing. At all.

"Chelsea, I'm glad you made it," said Lanny, relief evident on his face when he finally found her.

"I'm glad I found you here. I was beginning to think that you stood me up."

Lanny shook his head. "No. I wouldn't dream of it. This is too important. For you and your father."

"I'm still grateful for what you're doing. For me," Chelsea said.

Lanny nodded curtly as his sign of appreciation, but there was no time for pleasantries. "We have to go. Our window is limited. We need to leave now or else we'll miss the chance to see your father."

Chelsea nodded, and without another word, they left the airport.

Lanny's last words were partially true. He knew that the US government was still surveilling him, and there was a good chance that they already knew that he was in Italy. He had to hide the fact that he had successfully rendezvoused with Chelsea so that they could fly out undetected. He would escort Chelsea to Frankfurt then Toronto and finally Bermuda. It would have been a lot easier if they simply flew to Bermuda from the United States, but they had to get their chasers lost otherwise the plan would be ruined.

As Lanny and Chelsea left the airport gates, a man, who was sitting in the benches in the arrival area, texted his colleagues in DC:

_Italians let them pass. Energy successfully rendezvous with Rodinian asset._

**_Rodham Residence, Washington D.C., August 20, 2009_ **

Hillary waved goodbye to her neighbors as she saw them walk away from her lawn. Some of her neighbors in DC surprised her one day with two whole pans of mocha cake and some BBQ ribs. Hillary had always been friendly towards her neighbors, and they, in return, had been very kind to her. When she arrived home from Rodinia, they had a welcome BBQ set for her in her garden.

The time with her neighbors was very pleasant, but it was also a little exhausting. Good thing that she had been regaining her strength and her cast was gone. She had been given a go-signal by her doctor at Walter Reed to jog and do yoga again, something she had missed very much. Little by little, she was beginning to regain the normalcy in her life and she was looking forward to getting back to work.

As soon as she closed the front door, she heard her phone ring. She hurried towards the coffee table, where her phone was sitting, and answered the call.

It was from Tom Donilon.

"Hi Tom," she answered. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi Hill. Can I call you in your secure phone? It's important."

Hillary steadied herself. There must be a situation somewhere in the world that needed her assistance.

"Yeah, sure," she replied. "Give me five minutes."

"Alright. Thanks."

Hillary ended the call and went to her soundproofed basement where her secure communication lines were installed. When she became Secretary of State, the basement was refurbished to be safe from prying eyes and ears of foreign adversaries. It was her personal SCIF.

As expected, her secure phone in the basement rang.

"Hi Tom," she greeted,

"Hill," said Tom, "do you know where your daughter is?"

Hillary was taken aback by his question. She thought he was going to consult her about something of international significance.

"She's in Italy right now. She texted me when she landed in Venice," she replied.

"Did she tell you where she's going?" asked Tom.

Hillary was finding these personal questions irksome. "Yes, She said she'll be in a short European holiday."

She heard a sigh from the other end of the line.

"Listen, Hillary," said Tom, "we have seen your daughter with a Rodinian asset. She met with him in Venice but we lost track of her since that.”

Hillary’s blood ran cold.

“Based on our intel,” continued Tom, “they might be going somewhere to meet with Bill Clinton.”

“No…” she gasped. “Why would Bill do that?” she asked more to herself than Tom. 

“We think Bill Clinton wants to turn your daughter against you. They must have known that she doesn’t know the truth yet.”

“Bill is waging a personal vendetta against me,” her heart broke when she said it out loud.

“Yes, it seems that way,” Tom said. “We have already dispatched search parties to recover your daughter. We think they might be going to Frankfurt.”

“I don’t think that’s where they are ultimately going,” said Tom.

“So where are they going?”

“That’s what I want to ask you,” Tom replied. “Is there a place of significance in your lives where Bill might choose?”

“What makes you think he will choose a place of significance to meet with Chelsea?”

“There’s a little chance he will meet her in Rodinia because Chelsea doesn’t have a visa, and I doubt she will go there just to meet him,” reasoned Tom. “It has to be somewhere outside Rodinia.”

“Bill studied in Oxford before,” she thought out loud.

“No. Chelsea had already been there and nothing happened. Think, Hillary. We need your input in here.”

Hillary racked her brain for answers. What place in the world connected Chelsea and Bill?

Finally, she got the answer.

“Bermuda,” she said. “They’re going to Bermuda.”

_**Office of the National Security Adviser, The White House, August 20, 2009** _

Hillary barged in unceremoniously into the room, where a handful of aides were calling on their phones frantically, stress evident on their faces, and another handful were huddled around a long table, with a large map in front of them.

"Thank God, Hill, you're here," Tom gasped in relief. "You're right, there's a high chance they're heading towards Bermuda. We called Air Canada and the tickets they purchased belong to a single itinerary: to Bermuda"

"But why would they purchase a single itinerary? Shouldn't they have bought tickets from different airlines?" asked James Comey, deputy director of the FBI, who was called to assist in tracking Chelsea.

"Maybe they're thinking we would look at different itineraries," suggested Tom.

Hillary shook her head. "I disagree. This is a father meeting his daughter you're talking about. He is excited to see her, so he didn't want to make the trip longer than necessary. And he didn't want her to tire Chelsea too. He's thinking about her when he planned this."

Tom and James looked at each other.

"I think Hillary's right," said Tom. "The heart has its reasons that reason cannot explain."

"So what do we do now?" asked James.

"I can call her. I can fake an emergency," Hillary said. She knew the price of lying to her daughter wasn't cheap, and had no idea what to tell her  if she asked why she lied, but it was all for the better.

"That might work," said Tom. "Or better yet, another person close to you can call."

"What about my friend Betsy?" Hillary suggested.

"That might work. But we need to be around Betsy when she makes the call," said James.

Hillary was crestfallen. Betsy was in Chicago.

"But what about her neighbors?"

"I can talk them into this," Hillary agreed.

"Alright," she grabbed her phone from her pocket to dial her next-door neighbor's number. But before she could finish dialling, an aide who was in the phone earlier called out.

"Everyone!" shouted the aide, "Ms. Rodham and the Rodinian asset were left by the plane going to Frankfurt!"

"What?!" Tom, James and Hillary all gasped.

"Seems like a sudden change of plans. They must have known that we know," said the aide.

"Shit," Tom cursed.

"We have to act quickly. They may be in Bermuda in a few hours," said James urgently.

"I'll go," Hillary volunteered. "I'll go to Bermuda directly."

"No, Hillary," said Tom. "We can't let you face Bill Clinton again."

"And let my daughter face him alone?!" her voice overpowered Tom. "This is a family mess. MY family's mess. And I'm the one who's going to fix it."

"But Hillary..." began James.

She shook her head forcefully. "Bill Clinton is not taking my child away from me."

"But what if he takes you? Again?"

"No. Not in front of our daughter," she assured. "He didn't survive torture just to have his daughter hate him. If anything happens to me there, Chelsea will definitely hate him for the rest of his life" _Assuming she doesn't hate him now_ , she thought.

Tom and James simply stared at each other.

"Alright, we'll arrange for your flight to Bermuda. You'll be with your diplomatic security..."

"Just one. No more than that," Hillaey said firmly. "It will alert them that I'm there if I brought more than one. And don't alert the Bermudan government too."

James and Tom weren't exactly happy, but they conceded that she was right.

"Alright," Tom handed her his blessing. "Pack your suitcases, Hill. And good luck. The President will be informed of this."

Hillary gave a curt nod, and she was on her way out.

_**Marco Polo International Airport, Venice, Italy, August 20, 2009** _

Chelsea and Lanny had missed their connecting flight to Frankfurt, thanks to an insider tip telling them that the US government is on to them. Lanny told Chelsea that the Russians had spotted them, and this dampened her spirits. He, however, reassured Chelsea that he and her father are working to make sure their plan would happen.

"Don't worry. Your Dad is figuring this out," he said to her.

"Are you in touch with him right now? May I talk to him?" Chelsea asked desperately.

"I'm afraid, I cannot," Lenny replied sadly. "Your father wants to talk to you when he sees you. And if the Russians traced this call, you will be intercepted. I don't want you to be caught up in all of this."

Chelsea obediently followed Lanny's orders despite her protests. But she didn't seem quite happy about it.

"Don't worry," said Lanny. "Your father is on his way. You'll be meeting him soon."

A small smile escaped Chelsea's lips.

"I hope you're right," she said hopefully.

As promised, Lanny and her father came up with a plan to continue to journey. After being stuck in Venice for a few hours, Lanny told them that a private plane was waiting for them in the airport and they were set to go.

"Wow, my Dad arranged all of that?" Chelsea said in awe when she learned about the contingency plan.

"Yes. He's not as isolated from the world as you think," Lanny explained. He may be in hiding, but he has friends and connections too. He just have to keep his real identity secret.

"I see," she said. "How long until we arrive at our destination?"

"Just under 17 hours," Lanny said.

17 hours. Chelsea had waited her whole life to see her father. Waiting for another 17 hours would be nothing.

_**L.F. Wade International Airport, Bermuda, August 21, 2009** _

Hillary and her lone diplomatic security arrived at the airport without so much fanfare, despite being one of the most recognizable faces in the world. She wasn't complaining, though. She less attention drawn to her, the better.

Hillary scoured the arrival area for any sight of her daughter, and to her disappointment, she wasn't there. Either Chelsea had arrived earlier, or she was yet to land. Hillary, her heart pounding on her chest, hoped for the latter.

Moments later, she almost jumped when her phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered the call.

"Hillary. This is James Comey," greeted the deputy FBI director.

"Hi James. Any updates?"

"I'm glad that you made it safe to Bermuda. We have contacted the Bermudan authorities and they said that your daughter and the Rodinian asset are yet to land in Bermuda."

"We better stay in the airport," she said.

"That's a good idea," said James. "I'll call you back again when their plane has landed. Ms. Rodham passing through immigration might buy us some time, but I cannot assure how fast they'll be."

"Alright. I'll keep my eyes peeled," she replied.

Hillary took a deep breath to calm her already raging nerves. She vowed to herself to stop this madness before things could turn for the worst. Chelsea should never see her father.

At least, not without her.

***

It was already dark when Lanny and Chelsea arrived at the airport. Just as soon as they stepped foot at the tarmac, Lanny’s phone began to ring. He excused himself from an unsuspecting Chelsea, who was pulling her luggage bag behind him.

“Hello?” Lanny answered his phone

“Lanny, this is Eagle.”

“We have arrived safely, Sir.”

“Good. How’s Energy?”

Lanny looked behind his back and eyed Chelsea. The past few hours had been too much for her, especially that she’s pregnant. “She’s exhausted from the trip, but nevertheless in good spirits.”

“I see. Listen, we are under Code 305. I’ve been told that Evergreen’s in the arrival area.” Code 305 stood for unwanted encounter.

“What?” Lanny said almost too loudly that Chelsea swung her head to his direction. “They saw us?!”

“My guess is that they outsmarted us. My wife is no fool, you know.”

“Certainly not,” Lanny was looking at Chelsea with great urgency. “We’ll execute Response 305. We’ll see you very, very soon.”

“Copy that. Make sure you get past the airport. Once you are out, the password is Victoria”

“Got it. I’ll see you soon, Eagle.”

“See you too.”

Lanny ended the call and hurried towards Chelsea, who looked distraught over the conversation.

“What is it? Is there a problem?” she asked worriedly.

“After passing through immigration, change into these,” Lanny handed her a neatly folded burka. “We’re being watched, and someone is looking for us outside.”

Chelsea gasped. “Oh God! Do you know who it is?”

“I don’t,” Lanny lied. "But we should get going if we want to evade them."

"Right."

As instructed, Chelsea wore the burka once they passed through immigration. With her heart pounding and her blood thundering in her head, they made it past airport security and past her anxious, unsuspecting mother.

***

Hillary and her security decided to split in order to cover more ground. She would scour the east side while he covered the west.  If one of them saw Chelsea, they would call the other for back-up. Hillary, of course, had hoped that she would be the one to see Chelsea. She would convince her to go back home and tell her the truth, or at least the unclassified version of it. It was of utmost importance to her that Chelsea not be brainwashed by the twisted truth Bill might tell her. Knowing that the Rodinian Supreme Leader was on a personal vendetta against her, Hillary wouldn't put lying past him.

It was already past 10 PM in Bermuda, and Hillary was still in the airport since 2PM, hungry, exhausted and understandably sleepy. She has been running on adrenalin for a few hours now and she wasn't sure if her body could keep up more.

Maybe it was the reason why she didn't notice a burka-clad woman exit the entrance on her left just as she turned around to look for her missing daughter.

_**Undisclosed Private Resthouse, Bermuda, August 22, 2009** _

The night was still deep when Chelsea and Lanny arrived at a deluxe resthouse in a private beach in Bermuda, but the clock said it was already 2 AM. After they slipped out of the airport undetected, they met with a man outside the terminal and Lanny gave the man the password Eagle told him, and they were off. After a two-hour drive, the two of them were on the shore where they met a man with a motorboat, and drove for an hour until they reached a private island in the middle of nowhere. The main island was still visible from the island they were in, but it was pretty far. Exhausted from their journey, Lanny told Chelsea to catch up some sleep, as her father would see her at dawn.

Try as she might, but Chelsea couldn't catch some sleep, now that she was only hours away from seeing her father. She stomach was in knots, and that wasn't because she was pregnant. Inside the deluxe resthouse, she tried everything to get herself to sleep, but to no avail. It was only when the sun was almost rising when she managed close her eyes for a wel-deserved rest.

Chelsea woke up at around 9AM, still feeling groggy and tired. When she came out of her bedroom after getting a well-needed shower, Lanny was already up and had prepared breakfast for her. She was too excited to eat breakfast that she was only able to eat a piece of bread and a sip of hot milk.

As she was finishing breakfast, Lanny's phone rang. He excused himself and took the call. Chelsea was dying in anticipation as she watched Lanny speak on the phone outside. _Where's my father? Is he coming?_

Chelsea's agong finally came to an end when Lanny annouced that her father was on the other resthouse on the island. Having arrived in the middle of the night, she did not notice the existence of the second resthouse. But she wasn't going to question that now. She had more pressing matters at hand.

A five minute walk carried her to the other resthouse, which seemed empty. For a moment, Chelsea thought that Lanny was playing tricks on her, until he urged her to go inside the house. This was it. Her father was inside. She was going to finally see him, talk to him and embrace him as tight as she could. Her heart was beating harder than a drum, and she was afraid she might faint.

Chelsea took a long, deep breath before she opened the door. She swung the door open, and she slowly poked her head inside.

Excitement turned to fear when she saw the face of Bill Clinton, the Rodinian dictator, staring at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally Chelsea and Bill met! And don't worry, I'll address Hillary being stuck at the airport next chapter, where everything will be revealed to Chelsea...


	30. Counterpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working Title: The Secretary of State is Missing :))

_**L.F. Wade International Airport, Bermuda, August 21, 2009** _

The clock had struck 11, yet there was no sign of Chelsea anywhere. She had been walking back and forth across the arrivals area of the international terminal, but her daughter was nowhere to be found. Her heart was racing. She had prayed that Chelsea was still inside immigration and somehow the Bermudan authorities had stopped her from passing through.

A call from DC broke her silent reverie.

"Hello?"

"Hillary? Jim here," said James Comey. "Are you still at the airport?"

"I am. We still haven't found Chelsea or her companion."  
She heard a deep sigh from the other end. This didn't sound so good.

"Hillary, we need to abort. Your daughter had already slipped away."

_**Horizons Hotel, Bermuda, August 22, 2009** _

An exhausted and despirted Hillary entered the executive suite, carrying her small douffle bag containing her clothes. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep for days until her daughter wakes her up and tells her everything is okay. But of course, that would not happen. At the end of Chelsea's meeting with Bill, Chelsea would definitely hate her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She had failed Chelsea. She had failed has her mother.

Hillary lay in bed, her eyes fluttering in and out of sleep as tears that she tried to keep for days had now flowed freely. Since this wild goose chase had begun, she didn't have time to stop, think and feel. Her last few days felt like a black hole. At first, she was sucked left and right, being ripped apart by the cruel world, and now, she had passed through the event horizon, and she felt empty and dark, just like the center of a black hole.

She decided that she would rest for a few hours, return to the United States and begin thinking about her future. Resignation seemed quite appealing to her at that moment.

But before Hillary could finally fall asleep, another phone call from DC would shuffle her future. Again.

**_Private Resort, Undisclosed Location, Bermuda, August 22, 2009_ **

Chelsea blinked twice. She was convinced that this was a kidnapping plot. She looked outside the windows and saw that Lanny was gone. Panic rose in her chest. 

"What do you want from me?" Chelsea stepped back. "Where's my father?"

Bill remained rooted on the spot, overwhelmed, joyful, and heartbroken all at the same time. He never imagined seeing his Chelsea would be this exhilarating. He stepped forward to close their distance, but Chelsea stepped another foot back. 

"Don't come any closer," Chelsea warned, trying to hide her fear. "I want to see my father. Where have you taken him? Are you trying to get back at my mother?"

Bill wanted to speak, but he couldn't. He, an ever eloquent man, was suddenly at loss for words. 

He swallowed. He needed to say something. Anything. But he didn't want to scare her away. 

"I didn't come to hurt you or take you away." That part, at least, was the truth. 

"Then what do you want?" she said defiantly. 

Chelsea's courageous front in the face of danger reminded Bill so much of Hillary. The resemblance was so uncanny that his heart swelled. 

Bill took something from his pocket: two pieces of paper, both folded and crumpled. One was written with the word "Bill" and the other was written with "Chelsea".

"I have something for you," he walked slowly towards his daughter. Chelsea stepped back still, but her back hit the wall. 

"I am bring an important message from your mother and father," Bill assured her. 

"What makes you think I'm going to believe it?" 

"This is your own mother's words," he said. "Her own handwriting."

Hesitant and trembling, Chelsea took the two letters from the Supereme Leader. She saw that one of them had the word "Chelsea" written on it. Shaking, she opened the letter and she found her mother's beautiful scrawl written all over it. 

"It's her," she whispered. 

Bill gave Chelsea some space as she read every word and sentence on that letter. 

Bill gave Chelsea some space as she read every word and sentence on that letter. Her face was that of incredulity and disbelief, but it was clear that Hillary's words were getting through her, and she was hearing what her mother was saying. She had just a hard time believing it.

As Chelsea finished the letter, there were more questions in her mind than there were answers. Chelsea would have believed that the first letter was a well-manufactured forgery if she didn't open the second letter,

"You want me to believe," Chelsea said after reading the second letter, shaking, "that my mother loved you?! Is this some kind of a joke?! What are you trying to accomplish?!"

Bill, one of the most feared men in the world, was reduced to a meek form.

"I have no reason to lie to you," he said quietly. "I am what I tell you I am. I am your father, Chelsea. Please, believe me."

"Why should I?" she shot back. "You held my mother captive. You used her as a bargaining chip to get what you want. You lied to your people and killed those who don't like you. You threatened to bomb the United States. Why should I listen to you, let alone trust you?"

On the other end of the room, Bill's heart was silently bleeding. To hear Chelsea admonish him like that, it was more painful than very lash, every electric shock, every bit of torture that he endured in that lonely cell in Rodinia.

"I don't have anything to make you trust me," he painfully admitted, "but please, believe me. I loved you so much since before you were born-"

"How," Chelsea interrupted, "can you stand lying so much? Are you that disturbed that you deluded yourself that I am somehow your daughter?"

Yet another stab pierced Bill's heart.

"I don't want trouble," Chelsea said firmly. "I just want to see my father. If you don't have him, I will leave in peace and speak nothing more of this. But if you lured me here to get something from my mom, then you might as well shoot me and my unborn child. I don't want you endangering anyone else."

Bill's eyes were red and full of pain, barely holding the tears that he was forcing himself to keep. Chelsea had done a better job of inflicting pain on him than the Rodinian jailers.

Chelsea's gaze shifted from Bill to the door. Her rage erased her fears, and now she was just furious and pumped up. She couldn't care less if Bill had a gun in his hand, ready to shoot her. Her resolve to leave this was place was stronger than her fear for her life.

She was about to leave the house when the door burst open, and the panting form of her mother, panicked and exhausted, appeared.

Relief flooded Hillary's body when she saw her daughter, and the two women women held each other in their arms, sobbing and whispering words of comfort, never felt more happy to see each other.

And Bill remained standing on the opposite side of the room, feeling isolated and left out of this happy reunion.

"Oh, Honey," Hillary cried in her daughter's ear. "I'm glad I found you."

"I'm so sorry Mom," Chelsea sobbed. "I should have told you about this. I was duped and I thought I was going to meet my father but they set me up..."

"Sssssssh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm not angry," Hillary said.

"This man, this horrible man," Chelsea pointed her finger at Bill as she held on to her mother, "he tried to lure me here and pretended to be my father!"

Hillary looked at Bill, her eyes apologetic. She had never seen him so hurt. He stepped back from the two women, letting them enjoy they private moment together. Bill was about to disappear from their view when Hillary called out to him.

"Bill!"

Both Chelsea and Bill were stunned and confused by Hillary's call.

"Wait, don't leave. Please," Hillary begged.

Hillary pulled out of her daughter's embrace and held the latter's hand.

"What's going on, Mom? Why did you call him Bill?" Chelsea questioned.

Hillary was faced with a tough decision. She could choose the easy way out and lie to Chelsea. Or she could do the right thing and tell Chelsea everything.

Bill's sad eyes implored her to do the latter.

She needed to. It was her duty as Chelsea's mother. But she wasn't sure if it was the best decision to take.

Hillary looked at her daughter and cupped the latter's face with her hand. "What did Bill tell you?"

"He gave me these letters," Chelsea produced the two letters Bill gave him, and it shocked Hillary beyond her wildest imagination. Never did she think she would see those letters again. She had written those letters thinking that she would die back in Rodinia. But a miracle happened: she was rescued, thanks to Bill. But there was one unintended consequence of her survival: she would have to deal with the truth herself.

Hillary examined the letters and read them. It seemed only yesterday that she wrote those in her cell. She half-wished that she had died in Rodinia so that she wouldn't deal with this terrible decision.

"Mom?" Chelsea called out. "What's going on?"

As much as she wanted to take the easy route, Hillary's conscience wasn't going to let her get away with it.

"Mom?" Chelsea called again, but Hillary ignored her.

Hillary let go of Chelsea's hand and walked towards Bill. Chelsea, who was watching this spectacle with disbelief, was expecting that her mother would hit him or berate him for deceiving her. But what Hillary did was far from anything Chelsea had imagined.

Hillary tenderly took Bill's hand and her thumb gently rubbed the rough skin of his knuckles. She reached inside her pocket and produced the ring that Bill gave her in the siege in Rodinia. She slipped the ring into his finger, emulating their wedding vows more than 30 years ago.

"Thirty-three years ago," Hillary began tearily, "I put this exact ring on his finger in a courthouse in Aldenkirk. I was wearing a white dress that I bought from the department store the day before, and this man," she pointed at Bill, "he was wearing the only clean suit he had."

"And on that day, we made a vow. A vow to love, honor and cherish each other, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, until death parts us," Bill supplied.

Hillary couldn't anymore control her sobs. "Chelsea, this man, your Dad, he honored that vow. He loved us. He honored us. He cherished us. He stayed true to that vow that it almost cost him his life."

Chelsea refused to open her heart man she so despised. She felt betrayed, both by her mother and father. How could she not? How could anyone react otherwise if they just found our that their entire existence was a lie?

"Chelsea, please," Hillary beseeched her daughter, "Your father is the reason why we're both alive, why we enjoy the freedom and the good life. If it weren't for his sacrifices, we wouldn't be here. I could never ever repay what he did for me and for you. All I ask is that you accept the truth. That he is your father. Because he's a part of you."

"THEN HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THOSE TERRIBLE THINGS! HE SHOULDN'T HAVE MURDERED HIS PEOPLE IF HE REALLY CARED FOR US!" Chelsea screamed, her emotions controlling her.

Hillary held Bill tighter, and shielded him from Chelsea's murderous glares. "I do not condone what he did. But that doesn't erase the fact that he is my husband and your father, and I love him up to this day."

Bill looked away from his two girls. He couldn't stand the sight of them destroying their relationship because of him. While was very touched by Hillary's declaration, it was no comfort for Chelsea's outright rejection.

"Who are you?" Chelsea spat at her mother. "I don't know you anymore. It's like a totally different person had taken over you and..."

Before Chelsea could say anything else, she opened the door and ran out of the house. Hillary and Bill called for her, but she ignored their pleas to return. Chelsea had spotted the same boat that brought her there. Lanny was there, standing by. To her desperation, she begged for him to bring her back to the main island, away from her parents. Chelsea was already on the boat when Bill and Hillary was able to catch up on her.

"Please, Honey. We can talk this through," Hillary begged. "There's more that you have to know."

"And what? Hear more lies?" Chelsea cried. "No. I'm not hearing anything more from you. From either of you," she pointed at her parents.

"Please, Chelsea," it was the first time Bill had spoken since Hillary confirmed the truth to Chelsea. "All I ask is a second chance."

Chelsea slowly shook her head, her lips quivering from the incessant crying.

"Lanny, please. Take me away," she pleaded.

Lanny looked at Bill, who was standing behind Hillary. With the heaviest heart, Bill nodded faintly, and Lanny started the boat's engine. Bill held Hillary tighter as the latter tried to run and catch the moving boat, but it was too fast for her. Hillary kicked and trashed against Bill's body, but he didn't let her go.

"CHELSEA! PLEASE COME BACK! COME BAAAAAACK," she screamed and sobbed into the sky.

As they watched the boat leave and disappear into the distance, Hillary's energy had depleted, and she fell into the sand, with her husband crying with her, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

It was the worst day of their lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp :) I wrote this soon after the last chapter to finally end the agony. Not sure it was the meeting that you expected but I hope you liked it :)


	31. Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is emotionally exhausting that I got sick and I wasn't able to sleep for a few days. :(

_**Undisclosed Private Resort, Bermuda, August 22, 2009** _

Hillary cried in despair as she watched the boat carrying Chelsea stream farther and farther away into the sea. No sight ever broke her more than that. It was always painful for a parent to see their child go - whether at school, at camp, at college, or even at their wedding. But at the end of the day, the child would come back to their parent, to seek refuge after an exhausting day. But in this case, Hillary wasn't sure Chelsea would ever go back to her.

No torture had prepared Bill for the pain of his daughter rejecting him. To add insult to injury, he managed to hurt Hillary too. When he hatched this plan, he didn't realize he would hurt Hillary this way, nor she would hurt this much. He just wanted Chelsea to distrust her mother, but his plan worked too well. Now, Chelsea hated them both.

"I'm so sorry, Baby," he cried on her shoulder, still holding her in the sand.

"What are you thinking, Bill?" she admonished him tearfully. "What are you trying to accomplish? To tear us apart? Well, mission accomplished, Bill!"

"I didn't think it will go this far. And I just wanted to see her too."

"AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID!" she screamed into the sky. "NOR WILL I!"

"I am so sorry, Hilly," Bill sobbed, feeling his heart being squeezed like a vice. "I will make it everything alright, I promise..."

"Do you really think she will speak to you after you toyed with her heart?! Are you this selfish?!"

"Then tell me what to do, Hilly," he begged, "please tell me."

"Go away, Bill. Go away. Never speak to her again," she told him forcefully.

"I...I..."

"Leave us be, Bill," she told him off.

"Hilly," was all Bill could manage to say.

"Please Bill," Hillary's tears wet the Bermudan sand, "I don't know if my heart can take any more heartbreak."

Bill looked at his wife with a heavy heart. How could he blame her for this? Was there anything more painful than to hear your child admonish and reject you? And it had happened  to her because of his callousness. Of course, Hillary wanted to cut her losses. It was only natural for her to want no part of him.

Quietly, he withdrew his arms from her and gently let her lay on the sand. He tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear, fighting the urge to kiss her head as he had forfeited that privilege the moment he hatched that plan against her.

"Come back to the cottage when you're ready," he told her, "I'll have Lanny take you back to the main island."

Bill's words came to her like a blur as she kept weeping in the sand. Once his back was on to her, she turned her head and saw his form walking away from her. At that moment, she realized that she have lost Bill too.

 

***

Hillary did not come back to the cottage. Instead, she settled on the hammock that hang between two palm trees. Exhausted after crying so much, she settled on it and immediately fell asleep once her head hit the pillows. It felt good to be cradled like a baby. She would have cried more if she still had energy, but she was so spent that her eyes closed on their own.

The sun was already setting when she opened her eyes again, the orange glow of the skies welcoming her back to her consciousness.

If it was any other day, she would have lazily basked in the beauty of nature happening right before her eyes. But alas, this day wasn't meant to be, her body heavy and her heart broken. Hillary wondered if she did anything so horrible in her previous life to make her so deserving of such punishment. All she wanted was a normal life and a happy family, not being entangled in a global conflict with her husband.

She got up from the hammock and stretched her arms and legs. She looked around. The beach was the same a before, except that the boat that carried Chelsea away was back on the shore. Her heart constricted as the memory of the earlier events flashed on her mind. She didn't need any more reminding of that. There was so much weighing on her mind, but for now, she wanted to rest.

Hillary struggled to walk on the sandy beach. She thought she looked ridiculous with her shoes on instead of flip-flops. But then again, she came rushing to the island as soon as James Comey told her that Chelsea had gone to this island. She hailed a cab to bring her to the harbor and paid a random guy to bring her to the island. She was so fixated on getting there that she had forgotten to arrange for a trip back to the main island. She regretted not doing that, as it meant she would have to ask for Bill's assistance for her return.

When she arrived on the cottage where Bill and Chelsea used to be, she knocked the door. Nothing. No response. She tried turning the knob and she was surprised that it was open.  She pushed the door and went inside. She looked for any signs of Bill, but there was none.

She really didn't want to see him, but she couldn't just leave the island without telling him so she went further inside and looked for any trace of her husband. She was looking for him in the kitchen when she heard a soft sound of the door closing. It seemed to have come from upstairs, so she hurried to the second floor. Fortunately, it wasn't hard for her to spot Bill. A singular room among the row of rooms in the hallway was illuminated. She quietly approached the door and pressed her ear on the wooden surface. She heard what seemed like sounds of clothes being piled on top of each other. Bill must be packing, she thought. She knocked on the door but she was met with more sounds of clothed and shuffling with the furniture. Sighing, Hillary decided to open the door.

As expected, she saw Bill, his face strained and heavy, packing his clothes into his luggage bag. He didn't even acknowledge her when she entered, nor made any indication that he was aware of his presence. The silence, apart from the sounds from Bill's movement, rang loudly in her ears. She never realized how she took his attention to her for granted. Ironic, she thought. For years, she prayed that Bill would one day ignore her and leave her alone, and now that he did, she felt isolated and hurt.

Hillary took a deep breath.

"Bill?" she asked tentatively.

Bill nodded in her direction. It was the first sign that he was aware that he was in the room.

"I...I am ready to go back to the main island now," she said. She felt like a fool for asking for his help to get back.

"Lanny's on the other cottage," he said, still avoiding her gaze. "He'll drop you off on the main island."

"Thank you," she replied. She felt she needed to say something else, but what else could she say?

"Have a safe trip home," he said coldly. Hillary was sure he didn't mean it to come out that way, but with everything that had happened, he was as upset as she was, and he needed to let his hair down too.

God, she needed to say something. Anything. Just so they wouldn't part ways like this.

"I...I wish you well, Bill," she said. Her brain couldn't think of a better farewell for Bill. 

She was about to turn around and leave when his voice caught her.

"I hope you patch things up with Chelsea."

That was it. He brought it up. The elephant in the room. Chelsea. She was trying to forget it, to bury it in her subconscious so she can somehow recover. Why did he have to mention it?

She decided that a "thank you" would be the most appropriate response. But her broken heart spoke freely on its own.

"I just want Chelsea back," she said, her voice raspy and starting to break. "Is it too much to ask?"

If Hillary said those words earlier, Bill would have taken it as a shot against him. But he too was so hurt and exhausted to take offense. Instead, he took it as an expression of grief from her, and he too wanted to let it out from his chest.

"I just wanted to finally see my daughter," he sobbed, "is it too much to ask?"

Hillary heard the bed squeak. She turned around and saw Bill lying on it, sobbing like a little boy. There was no trace of the iron-fisted Supreme Leader in the man who was crying in the bed a few feet from Hillary. There was only the soft-hearted Bill Clinton who took his breath away in the library more than 30 years ago. The Bill Clinton who took her to this very same place because she needed a break away from the pressures of her career and pregnancy. The Bill Clinton who jumped like an idiot when he found out she was already with child. The Bill Clinton who risked his life just so she could escape the gunfire in Rodinia.  

The Bill Clinton who she could always turn to.

As much as she wanted to leave him and walk away, she didn't have the heart to do so. She could never do that to him, no matter how much he hurt her. So quietly, she walked around the bed and sat beside him, running his hand across his arm. The slightest of her touch made the greatest difference. Bill stopped and stifled his cries.

"Shhhhh...just let it out," she cooed. "I'm here, I'm here."

"For thirty years, you and Chelsea always had each other," he sobbed, "but me? I was all by myself. No one to turn to when I needed someone to cry on."

"Oh, Bill," Hillary choked. "Cry on to me, Bill. Tell me everything. I want to hear," she encouraged him. She moved closer to him and leaned on her side so that she too was lying on the bed and facing him. She was relieved that he didn't turn her away, but his face remained buried in his large hands.

"I watched you from afar," he confessed, but Hillary already knew that. "I saw you and Chelsea living happily together, and there was not a single moment where I didn't wish to be there with you."

"I'm so sorry, Bill," she cried to him, still moving closer. She held on to his arm tighter and sobbed on it. "I had forgotten what you were to us," she added. "All this time, I saw you as an adversary to defeated or contained, but not the man who used to make me smile and feel special, the man who had loved me when I had been undeserving," she said. "You sent me many signals that you still loved me and Chelsea, but I failed to recognize them. I was a fool for not seeing them right away."

Bill's sobs had mellowed, and his stiff demeanor had softened. But still, he wasn't looking at her.

"I allowed myself to belong to another man. I thought we were long over. I was so wrong. I broke my vows when you didn't. I do not deserve you."

While's cries had subsided, Hillary's sobs crescendoed, and Bill's husbandly instincts immediately took action. He pulled his arm away from her, and momentarily, she thought he wanted nothing more to do with him, but she let out a surprised whimper when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his chest, where her tears wet his shirt.

For Hillary, it was a reckoning of her failures as a wife. For Bill, it was a reacquainting with a feeling he had long forgotten: the feeling of someone crying for him, sympathizing with him.

The feeling of someone truly loving him.

"Oh Hilly!"

His other arm wrapped around her body as she sobbed, and he too let his tears flow again. He was holding her tenderly for the first time in decades, and he loved how she felt. She was soft and warm under him. He missed holding her this way, and he was determined to make this last moment last, forever if he could. Just him and here holding each other like this, basking in each other's presence.

Bill wanted just to lie in bed and be like this and not move, but he couldn't help but want a little more. He looked down and pressed the lightest kiss on her forehead. He felt her relax a bit, and her cries subsided a bit. He felt a little relieved that she was calming down.

He had missed this. He had missed those lazy days where they would simply lay in their couch in their house in Aldenkirk and he would brush his hair with his palms, and then he would talk and then she would listen, and then she would get her turn to speak. He missed waking her up in the morning with the smell of his homemade pancakes, and him being woken up by her nibbles and kisses, and showering him with affection with her mouth...

The vivid memories of her worshipping momentarily brought him away from his harsh reality, where Hillary was quietly whimpering in his chest. Bill knew exactly what do to comfort her, but he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, nor would she even allow him to. After all, he had abused that privilege in that jail cell back in Rodinia.

Mindful of his boundaries, Bill pulled her closer and rubbed the expanse of her back. He could feel the life underneath him, the rise and fall of her lungs, the goosebumps trailed his touch. She was melting on to him, like the million time she did before. It's like no time had passed between then and now.

Hillary, as much as she tried to refuse the comfort he was offering, was enjoying this immensely. No, no, no. This was so wrong, she thought to herself. Chelsea was somewhere out there, hating on her parents, but she needed respite. She needed to breathe. She was human, and she too needed to express her grief.

Bill seemed to have been thinking the same thing, because suddenly said, "Please do not think of anything else right now. It's just you and me here. We were robbed of thirty years. All I want is a couple of hours. For once, let us be selfish."

There were compelling reasons for Hillary to leave now and to stay, but her heart and body were screaming for the latter.

It's just a couple of hours, isn't it? After that, I'll be back to the real world.

Either way, Hillary would deal with an awful amount of shit when she returned.

So why not take a short time off?

Hillary didn't speak. But instead, she moved slightly up so that her face was not anymore in his chest, but in his neck. She wrapped her arm around his torso, and her leg hooked his body, the most intimate they have been in months.

Bill continued his affectionate play on her hair and face, hardly ignoring the slight friction between her legs and his crotch. While the gentle teasing was slowly becoming unbearable, his resolve to be respectful was stil strong. As long as she kept it subtle, he would be okay.

She, on the other hand, was gazing on the beautiful contours of his jaw. How many times in the past had she planted soft kisses on each inch, making his Adam's apple bob? She had lost count. His shapely neck was one being treated to Hillary's kisses, her lips oh so lightly pressing from his chin all the way to up, where she nibbled the soft shell of his ear. He let out a low growl, telling her how much he was enjoying this.

Bill was only too happy to reciprocate. His hand went downwards to her hip and cupped her soft, ample bottom. His fingers squeezed her lightly, and she wiggled against him, creating more friction between them, making his member stir to life. She hadn't done anything yet, but he was already ready for her. Bill's mind exploded at the thought. Only she could have such an effect on him.

The sweet assault in his ear was nothing short of magnificent. She remembered every every inch, every spot that made him gasp. From light kisses, Hillary slowly pressed her lips harder and harder around his ear and neck that he didn't notice that she sucked the skin connecting his head and his shoulder, marking him as hers and hers alone.

Satisfied with her work, Hillary went up and lightly nibbled his bottom lip. That sudden move caught Bill off guard, but on the second time she went for his lips, he managed to catch her, nipping and sucking her hips until they are swollen with his love. Bill's tongue tried to get access to her mouth, and she happily welcomed him, opening up for her and letting their tongues tango.

Once they were both out of breath, they withdrew at the same time and simple gazed at each other lovingly, something the hadn't managed to do the last time.

Bill admired her beauty, from the blueness to her eyes, the golden hue to her hair to the softness of her lips. Mesmerized, his fingers found her face and cupped her cheek, her skin smooth against his thumb.

"Not day over twenty," he admired her.

Hillary was left speechless, so a blush on her cheeks told Bill everything she had wanted to say. Her eyes, transfixed on his, were urging him not to stop.

"I missed you. I missed us." Bill's thumb travelled from her cheek to the corner out her mouth, where she gently kissed the tip. He probed a bit more around her lips, and soon, she was pulling his hand and was sucking his fingers expertly, just how he liked it. The erotic vision of her sucking him only made his cock viciously jealous of his fingers that it was already straining to get out of his pants.

Not yet. No matter how aroused he was, he vowed to make this last. He didn't stay here to simply fuck her.

He remained so that he could make love to her.

Bill pulled out his hand from his mouth and immediately travelled to her breasts. He cupped her swollen flesh, kneading it like a fat cat. He pressed and squeezed her tenderly, until she became frustrated of the barriers between her breasts and his fingers that she took it upon herself to remove her blouse and bra. One free of the constraints, Bill's pupils widened when he saw her dark and hardened nipples, tempting him and taunting him to give them some attention. He was only to give in, so he plunged down and lazily sucked a nipple, with his other hand played with another.

While Bill was busy with her breasts, Hillary took advantage of his divided attention to get rid of his clothes. She reached for his belt and expertly pulled them out of his pant loops. She cupped him for the first time, and she was surprised at how aroused he was already, and it excited her. The thought of Bill being rock hard for her made her wet. She squeezed her legs to preserve any shred of her modesty left, but it only aroused her further.

She unzipped his pants and pulled his pants and briefs down in one fell swoop. Her hand covered his cock, and she felt him suck her breast a little harder, making her giggle. Licking her lips, Hillary stroked his entire length, wrapping her fingers not too tight nor not too loose, but just the right amount of tightness that she knew he liked. At first, she was slow in her movements, just teasing him and making him want more, but she decided to give him what he wanted.

He felt him groan in his breasts, and she knew he liked what she was doing. She continued his ministrations, and occasionally wetting her hand to ease the strokes. In time, focusing on giving him pleasure became laborious, because his hand already found her center, cupping her underneath the fabric of her panties.   
Hillary found it incredible that he managed to hold on to her breasts, considering that the rise and fall of her chest had only become more forceful and erratic once he slipped his finger inside her wet depths. Not only that, his thumb was rubbing her clit in circles. 

She glanced down and saw her husband's face digging through her breasts. She let out a deep sigh, feeling a small twinge of hope blossom on her chest. No matter how badly things had happened that day, she wasn't left alone. She never was.   
And she was glad that he was there beside her.

Maybe it was time to show him how grateful she was. 

Hillary gently cradled his face, and it made him pause. He looked up at her, and for the first time since she left, he saw her smiling. That smile so bright that it overshadowed the sun. 

Finally, the night time of his life had come to an end. Dawn had come. 

She pulled him up and kissed him again, this time with more passion that their first one. She wanted to make him feel that he was never alone, that she always had him, and he would always have her.

"Let me love you, Billy," she whispered to him.

He could only nod and shrudder in response. 

She slowly removed the rest of his clothing while he undid hers. For a while, Bill thought that something had gone wrong because she remained still until he realized that he was staring at his body, eyes wide in shock.

"Billy, what...?"

Scars, long and short, dominated his torso, reminding her of the scars Jesus Christ had sustained in the hands of the Romans. She shakingly touched a long scar near his heart, vivid images of her husband being whipped surfaced in her mind's eye. 

Hillary knew long before that Bill was tortured by the Rodinian military when she escaped, but for her, it was nothing more than a fact to remember. But seeing those scars brought that truth to life. It made her realize that it was real. 

She fought the urge to cry, if there were any more tears left to shed. She didn't want to cry anymore. She just wanted to love and feel loved. 

Before Bill could open his mouth, she bent over him, pursed her lips, and kissed the head of his erect cock. It wildly leapt in response, so she kissed it again, swirling her tongue around the head until his eyes rolled back. The passionate expression he wore was priceless. "This is for you, Billy," she lovingly proclaimed when her right hand firmly gripped him at the base. Her left hand fondled his sac, cupping their weight while massaging hem. She was torturing him with her lazy pace, slowly dragging her tongue up and down, but never once taking him inside her mouth. She would only kiss the tip, but not his length. 

"Hillary, please."

"All for you, Baby."

When her soft lips finally welcomed him inside the warmth of her mouth, his physical response to her was overwhelming. Reclining his head back, Bill's chest heaved. The sensual sounds of her tender sucking captivated his senses. Her cheeks hollowed, increasing the pressure around him to the point that he had to try bite his cheek or else this would be over with embarrassingly quick.   
"Honey, stop," Bill gasped. Hillary looked at him with a concerned expression, but his smile told her there was nothing to worry about. At least, while he was with her. 

"I want to be inside you now," he begged her. "I've waited for so long."

Hillary obliged. She got up and gently pushed him into the bed. Bill's hand found its way to her center again and teased her dripping entrance. She grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip against her, making it moist and warm. Bill held on to her hips as she slowly sank into him, making them gasp in satisfaction. 

Oh they missed this. They really missed this. The slow, lazy thrusts against each other's hips and the comfort, friendship and love that each other provided. They had almost forgotten that their lovemaking was not just physical. It was on a whole other level that only the two of them understood.

"I love you, Billy," Hillary managed to say when she leaned forward for a kiss. 

"I love you too, Hilly," was his wholehearted answer. "I love you yesterday, today and always."

Bill groaned pitifully as Hillary sank down more forcefully than she had intended, and he lost all ability to speak as she held her face. Her left hand slipped into his cheek, his eyes fixed on hers and hers alone as she plunged herseld down and down againin a rhythm. His face twisted up in ways that excited her.   
Like the good 'ol days. 

He had to stop her, occasionally, because he was dangerously close to coming and he needed to hold this out for as long as possible. Hillary immediately noticed what he was thinking so she flicked her hand where they were moving together and slipped her finger against her clit, and her breath gave out, and the back of her eyelids exploded in white light as she stilled, and his hips started moving in her stead, letting her ride it all out as she came around him. 

One, two, three more strokes and he too, allowed himself to come undone, and he came with a cry that made his voice break. His hands flew around her middle, hugging her tightly and his head falling into the crook of her neck. They were both gasping for air, their hearts beating so fast. But they have never felt so calm in their lives. 

"I'm glad you're in my life, Billy," Hillary whispered in his ear. 

Hillary, basking in the glow of their lovemaking, felt her shoulder be drenched in Bill's tears. He was hugging her tighter, his fists clenching behind her back.

"I am glad I never gave up on us, Hilly," he cried.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be fluffy and probably smutty. A little respite before we go back to the drama :P


	32. Second Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure this happened in real life. LOLJK

**_Undisclosed Private Island, Bermuda, August 23, 2009_ **

The smell of pancakes and coffee tickled Bill's nostrils when the soft glow of the sunlight blinded him, waking him up. He stretched his arms and legs, feeling very much refreshed from his sleep. When he opened his eyes, he found himself buried in a mess of thin bedsheets which were the only things that were keeping him modest. He realized that he had no underwear on. He scanned the room and felt relieved that his briefs were just at the foot of the bed. 

He slowly sat up in his bed, his mind still hazy from all the things that had happened last night. He could vividly recall making love to Hillary over and over until she fell asleep in hist chest and only then he allowed himself to sleep. Given that he was no spring chicken anymore, he felt exhausted but nevertheless, he was in good spirits. 

Bill heard the bedroom door creak open, and a smiling Hillary opened it wide, carrying a breakfast table. On it was a stack of pancakes with a small birthday candle on top, two cups of coffee, and a large plate of eggs, bacon and toast. 

All the delicious food in Hillary's hand couldn't stop Bill from gazing Hillary, who was wearing a white silken robe and her brightest smile. 

"Good morning, Honey," she said sweetly. She entered the room and placed the breakfast table right on top of his lap. She sat opposite him in folded legs. 

"Good morning, Baby," he stole a peck on her cheek, and he saw her blush. 

"I've made breakfast for us," she said. "I want to make a cake for you since I never got to throw you anything for your birthday since the dinosaur era but the pantry downstairs doesn't have enough ingredients for cake so I made pancakes instead. Your recipe, of course," she told him excitedly. 

"Wow. So that's what the candle is for," Bill replied, genuinely touched by her gesture. 

"I hope it's not too late to celebrate your birthday. Blow the candle, Honey!"

And Bill did as he was told. "This is great, Honey. This is the best birthday celebration ever! Even better than the one when I spent partying for two days straight!"

Hillary squirmed a bit. She did not like what happened during those two days.

Bill thought that he was teasing her about America's espionage on him, since they both knew that the US was indeed spying on him. "You don't have to say anything, Baby. I don't want you to get in trouble."

Hillary's face soured but she immediately put up a facade of happiness. However, Bill was quick to notice her body language. 

"What's wrong, Baby?" he asked. 

"Nothing, really," she insisted. 

Bill didn't want to let it go. "No, Honey. It's not nothing. Please," he cupped her cheek, "We keep so many things to ourselves because of our jobs, and I respect that. But I don't want to keep anything else from us anymore."

Hillary sighed, her demeanor still stiff. "I know I have no right to say it because I strayed, but I didn't think you'd go back to the old ways again." She was referring to a report she read two years ago that said that after Bill had partied for two days for his 60th birthday celebration, his generals gave him a prostitute and accepted it. Unbeknownst to Hillary, it was a total lie planted by the CIA to sway her feelings against Bill.

"Baby, I don't want to dive into the details, but I remained faithful," he maintained. "I am willing to go though a lie detector test to prove it.

Hillary didn't seem convinced. "You were an ex-intel officer." 

Bill wanted to smack himself. Hillary was right. He, as a former member of Rodinia's intelligence service, could hoodwink a lie detector test. The lie detector test thing was not the best metaphor to assure her that he was telling the truth.

"Baby, it's fine," Hillary dismissed. "We don't have much time and I don't want to waste it by sulking around. This is a rare chance that we have right now. Let's make the most of it.

But Bill did not heed her. He grabbed her hands and he let her fingers touched the largest scar in his torso, running from his chest to his abdomen. Hillary winced when her skin felt the roughness. Images of Bill being whipped flashed in her mind's eye again.

"I almost died defending you. Defending us. I will never want that to go to waste just because I felt needy, though I will not deny there were many times I almost gave in. But in the end, my fear of hurting you triumphed, so I never did, " he said.

Hillary's hand crept upwards until she touched the part where his heart was, her eyes glistening.

"I believe you now," she said guiltily. "I am sorry for thinking that you slept with another woman. It's because..."

He placed a finger on her lips to silence her. "Say no more, Baby. I don't need to hear why you thought I did. All that matters is that you know the truth and have accepted it."

Hillary's eyes glistened. "I will never ever doubt you again."

Now that the air was cleared, they proceded to eat breakfast. Hillary never thought that something as normal as eating breakfast in bed could be so surreal. She realized how ordinary couples take their meal times for granted. For them, it was a routine. But for her and Bill, it was a luxury that no money on Earth could afford.

"Thank you for this, Hilly," said a grateful Bill, tapping his belly after they had finished their food. "I thought no in the world is celebrating that I am alive. I am glad to know that at least one is."

"Of course, Billy. I owe you 29 more birthday parties!" she giggled.

"Why don't we have one now in the bathtub?" he winked.

As he wished, they were in the tub, soaked in warm water and bubbly suds. They lay there and made love, until the water has turned cold the suds were all gone. All freshened up and clean, they changed clothes and went to the beach for a walk. They held hands, swaying, as they let the sea breeze touch their skin, and when they found a perfect spot for them to lounge, they let each other touch their skin and make love for the second time. Once they were sated, they lay in the fine sand waiting for the sun to set.

"This is so beautiful, Hilly. I'll remember this day," Bill said breathlessly as he planted kisses on her shoulder.

"Me too, Honey. Me too. I know we have so much to face when we get off this island, but for now I don't want to think of them all. I want to be selfish even just for one day," Hillary said as she snuggled closert to Bill.

"The world's going to eat us alive tomorrow," Bill remarked.

"Yeah, but I feel so much confident knowing thay you have my back," Hillary said.

Yeah, Bill would always have her back. His love would be constant. And she was glad for it, but she wasn't sure about their marriage going forward. She absentmindedly played with Bill's ring on his finger, and he caught that gesture.

"You're thinking again," he noticed. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Hillary sighed. "I don't want to be a Debbie Downer now that we're here in this paradise enjoying but..."

"But what?"

She sighed again. "We work for different governments. Adversarial governments. And I know that in some way, our governments used our marriage against us. I just think it will be more practical moving forward if we divorce." When Hillary said the word divorce, it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Don't get me wrong, Bill. I love you so much and that will remain, but the imagine the international crisis this will make if this is revealed. Countries hostile to our nations can use that to blackmail us."

"And think about Chelsea," she added. "I don't want to think what she'll go through if the public finds out about us. I can take the criticisms that will be thrown against me, but I swear I will drag those who will bully Chelsea down to the pits of hell."

Bill sighed. He wasn't perturbed by her proposal. In fact, she had brought up several very good reasons why they should divorce. He was just surprised that the reasons that she gave were less selfish than what he imagined she would say. Maybe he was so absorbed into thinking that she psychologically manipulating him from afar using the meta signals she sent like her body language in front of the TV and her choice of words. But she was just being her true self, and he was just too absorbed into her.

Bill's answer was a question.

"Did you wonder why I became ideologically aligned with Desmond Loiseau, the man who was the reason why you left Rodinia?" he asked.

She shook her head truthfully. "I've always wondered for years but I can't come up with a good answer, the most ridiculous of which was torture addled your brains."

Bill chuckled. "No, my brain is as sharp as ever, I can assure."

"I don't need convincing. You're hard to outwit. You're the reason why I stay late at work!" she giggled.

"I'm sorry!" Bill's laughter died down, turning into a more serious turn. "Anyway, it didn't just happen overnight, but it began-"

"Please, if you're going to indoctrinate me with your ideology, then I'm sorry because I will not flip," Hillary interrupted him.

"No, no. I not going to convince you. I know how hard it is to persuade you once you had your mind set," he teased, " but I want to tell you how I started to change."

Hillary was listening intently.

"I know somewhere in your Department of Defense, there is a comprehensive report on the Rodinian war which I am pretty sure you have access to," said Bill. "I want you to read it. If you think I am wrong in believing that the US is an enemy of Rodinia, then I will grant you the divorce and surrender to your authorities," Bill said. "If I am right, then you will publish that report..."

"Whoa there," Hillary stopped him, "I can't commit to that! I cannot let you dictate our foreign policy!"

"Fine. If I am right, then I will not grant the divorce, because our main division is rooted on our ideology. If we are on the same page, then I see no reason for us to divorce," he said.

Hillary simple stared at the sea. It was a risky deal to take, as Bill might use this as leverage against the United States. But in the end, she trusted that he will stay true to his word.

"I don't think about anything else anymore," she said.

"Then don't. Typical Hilly. Still stressing out while on vacation," he grinned.

"You know me so well," she kissed his cheek. "How did you het this island anyway?"

"It belongs to one of my friends," he said, and by 'friends', he meant generals. "He let me borrow this for a couple of days."

"Hmmmm, you have friends in high places," she smirked.

"As do you. Imagine being friends with the President of the United States!"

"Well, not really. But I am married to the sexiest, most handsome leader of Rodinia."

"You do know how to butter me up. Tell me, is there something you want be to buy for you?"

"Awww, you got me," she teased. "But seriously, I want something from you."

"Anything, Baby."

Hillary simply looked at him, resting her chin on his chest, her cheeks blushing.

"What do you want? And why are you blushing," he said amusedly. 

"Maybe you can give this to me as your divorce gift to me," she said. 

"If we are going to divorce, which isn't set in stone yet," he corrected her. "So, what do you want from me, Baby?"

Hillary circled her finger on his chest, playing absentmindedly. "You know how when we have sex, it's always almost the same thing? You on top or you on bottom, but the routine is the same?"

Bill thought deep and hard about what she had just said and he too realized the same thing. 

"Are you not happy with it?" he inquired. 

"Well, I do finish every time we have sex, thanks to you," she grinned, "but I do get bored sometimes. And as much as you don't like to hear it, it's also the same way with Neil."

"Oh God, Hillary. Too much information!" he cupped his ears with his hands. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"God, I don't know if you're punishing me for all the nasty things I've done..."

"No, no, no," Hillary couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, but seriously, do you get what I'm saying?" 

"You are tired with our normal sex routine?" 

Hillary nodded guiltily. "I know it's the first time we had sex for a long time, and you had probably a dry spell, but I just want for us to try something new."

Bill arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Hillary looked down on his chest. "Remember when we were in that prison?"

"Yeah? Am I too rough? You should know I really am sorry for being such an ass during sex..."

"Don't be."

Now Bill was really confused. "Why?"

"I liked it. A lot," Hillary blushed so profusely that she was redder than the Bermudan sunset behind her.

"Oh!" Bill exclaimed. "And you want us...?"

"Yeah," she cut him. "I'd like to do it again. I'd like this other side of you who doesn't give any fucks and who goes at it hard. I know you are such a passionate and gentle lover, but I'd like it if we take things up a notch."

"Hmmmm," Bill was tickled by her admission. "Is that why you can't resist me until now? Because I'm so tough and I don’t give any fucks?"

"Don't let it get to your head so much...but I am going to say yes," she smiled.   

"I see," Bill whispered to her ear, purring. "Ms. Rodham," his voice became suddenly stern, and Hillary felt a shiver on her spine. 

"Yes?" she said weakly. 

"You are under arrest for seducing the Supreme Leader of Rodinia," he said hotly to her ear. "You will be locked up, blindfolded and tied. You will be questioned, and if you don't answer, you will be punished severely."

Hillary gulped and then licked her lips, bracing herself for Bill's punishment. She crossed her legs, trying not to get too excited for the interrogation.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, after this chapter, we will go back to the usual programming. This chapter marks the end of Part II of Spoils. Part III will revolve around the report and will lead to the events of Part IV, where all the shit will hit the fan. So, it's safe to say there will be at least 15 more chapters in the story. Huhuhu. I am sorry if this has gotten longer than expected. Just think each part as a season in this story's TV series. 
> 
> Just a small hint: Part III cover Chelsea's wedding and Hillary's return as SoS. :P
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and not getting impatient with this! LOL!
> 
> EDIT: Somebody please write a Mamma Mia-inspired Billary fic huhuhuhu


	33. Joint Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who wished me well on Tumblr. I am still in shock and upset with everything that had happened recently, but slowly, things are getting better. 
> 
> I wasn't planning to write right chapter because I was demotivated but the shock of what had happened recently changed my sleeping pattern, and last night, I couldn't sleep. So in an effort to make myself drowsy, I decided to write this. I already know what to write in the upcoming chapters. It's just I lost some of my motivation to work and write. My boss isn't helping either. Perhaps she doesn't care. :/
> 
> Anyway, I apologize for this short update. I hope I can find the motivation again so that I can keep you all happy. I honestly don't know when to update. Everything's hard these days. :(

**_Delivery Room, University of Virginia Medical Center, February 27, 1980_ **

A blood curling scream could be heard from Theater A of the delivery room. A team of well-trained nurses and doctors surrounded Hillary as she lay, her legs spread open to welcome her soon-to-be-born baby. Her contractions had begun a few hours ago and the pain was tearing her apart in full force. Normally, a woman would hold their husband's hand like a vice grip as they pushed the baby out of her body. But in her case, she only had the railings of bed to hold on to, as she had no idea about the whereabouts of her husband, or whether he was still alive.

But she couldn't worry about him at that moment, now that her baby was about to come out.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH," Hillary screamed as she pushed her baby. God knows how many times she tried. She could have sworn she had pushed her organs out.

"Very good," said Dr. Kathy Perkins encouragingly, rubbing Hillary's arm and drying the sweat on her forehead with a towel. "You're doing really good. Your baby's right on track."

Hillary heaved. She did not know if she could still take it, with the pain in her belly and the forceful pushing. "Doc, please...another dose of anesthesia please." She needed it. She needed the pain to go away, and it wasn't just the physical pain that she wanted gone. She was still reeling from pain and guilt of probably sending Bill to death just so she and their baby could have a better life outside Rodinia. She was certain that he was dead by now. But she needed Bill. She needed him more than anything else in the world. She needed him to hold her while she was delivering their baby. She needed to tell him everything was going to be okay.

"Billy...I need you," Hillary thought as she closed her eyes, her tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, no, no, Hill. Your muscles need to contract. You can do this," Dr. Perkins urged her. "You are strong, Hill. This will be over. And after that, you'll see your baby. You just need to see this through."

"I can't, Doc. Please, just put me in C-section,"  Hillary begged tearily.

Dr. Perkins looked down on Hillary with great sorrow. Hillary was a healthy woman, and Dr. Perkins knew she could withstain the stress and strain of childbirth. However, Hillary's emotional state had taken its toll on her body, making it more difficult for her to bear her child.

"Hillary," Dr. Perkins gently caressed Hillary's head, hoping that it will somehow boost her patient's morale. "I cannot put you in C-section unless absolutely necessary. You can do it, Hillary."

"I can't!" Hillary sobbed harder as she held the metal railings of the bed like a vice. "Please, I want this over."

Dr. Perkins gently removed Hillary's grip from the railing and held her hand. She felt Hillary relax a little. Her sobs had mellowed.

"Alright," Dr. Perkins steadied herself. "Let's try again."

To her delight, Hillary gave a small nod.

"Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

_**Undisclosed Location, Rodinia, February 27, 1980** _

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

Bill screams rang painfully inside the walls of the warehouse that contained him as he felt the ends of the whip hit his bloodied back. His hands were hung by the ropes attached to the walls. He had been like that for several days now and his arms were numb from the lack of blood. He also was not allowed to sleep nor to see darkness, as the place where he was in was illuminated for days, and the lack of darkness and sleep drove him to the brink of insanity. However, the constant thought of Hillary and their unborn child residing safely in the United States brought respite to his withering mind and body.

He was momentarily caught closing his eyes, which his jailer has forbidden him to do. "Hey loser!" the jailer, wearing a sack with holes in it, said. "No sleeping!"

Bill snapped his eyes wide open, the bright lights painfully entering his pupils. He managed to pass a couple of long blinks to rest his eyes but it did almost nothing. He was fatigued and in pain, but his ordeal would not end any time soon.

Unless he died.

A few minutes ago - or was it hours? Bill didn't know as time became meaningless to him already - he was waterboarded as the jailer interrogated him for his wife's whereabouts. He had maintained that he didn't know where she was. Of course he didn't know; he was arrested shortly after the Rodinian authorities realized that Hillary had escaped from the country. The interrogation was just a pretext for the regime to convince Bill to beg for forgiveness and quell his protest against them. But of course, with a wife and child to protect, that wasn't an option for him.

"Clinton," the jailer murmured, "you're one tough cookie, eh?"

Bill didn't answer. It was probably best not to give his jailer a reason to inflict more pain unto him. But with having lost control of his faculties already, he didn't realize that he was glaring at his jailer. The jailer noticed this so he slapped Bill in the face, the crack of skin against skin echoing loudly inside the warehouse walls.

"You clearly hadn't learned anything, Clinton. Tsk, tsk, tsk. And I thought we made progress yesterday. Or was it a few hours ago? Sorry, there's no clock in here. Don't wanna get you bored and have you stare at the clock," His jailer was taunting Bill on the meaningless of time so torture him further.

Bill didn't respond. He tried to keep his face as blank as possible. The jailer noticed that Bill seemed to have gain a little composure. He shook his head. He couldn't let his prisoner rest or relax. He went behind Bill again, and with greatest force, he hit Bill's back again, more blood oozing from the already blood-stained skin. He could have sworn he saw some bits of flesh already protruding.

Bill's screams, like any other, echoed inside the warehouse. But little did he know that he echoed the screams of his wife, who, at the moment, was screaming in pain to deliver their child.

_**Nursery,** _ **** _**University** _ **_of Virginia Medical Center, March 2, 1980_ **

Hillary, sitting on a wheelchair, adored her baby from the window of the nursery. The baby girl, who she named Chelsea after Bill once told her they should name their baby as such after hearing the Joni Mitchell song of the same name during their vacation in England, slept soundly inside the incubator. Chelsea had been born a few weeks short, and she needed to be inside the said machine for a while before Hillary could bring her home. As disappointed Hillary was that Chelsea would have to stay in the hospital a little bit longer, she was ecstatic fo finally meet her daughter. Hillary saw her face in Chelsea, and a little bit of Bill too. No. Actually, she looked a lot like her Dad, and Hillary was grateful that it had been so. With Bill's likeness in their daughter's face, Hillary would always be reminded of him, and it made her heart swell so much that she could burtst.

As much as Hillary was excited to bring her home, she was worried about how to pay off the already mounting hospital bills. Before she left, she and Bill managed to move all of their savings offshore, and Hillary used the money to start her life in the US. But their money wasn't enough for this. How could she have known that Chelsea would be born earlier than due?

As Hillary thought about the daunting challenge ahead of her,  her fingers absentmindedly played with the wedding and engagement rings that had been a constant fixture in her left ring finger. Hillary sighed. The rings were precious to her. She just couldn't let go. Not just yet.

But all doubts went away when Chelsea yawned from inside the incubator, filling Hillary's face with joy  She saw the same face Bill gave when he yawns when in their bed in the morning. Even the stretching of the arms were the same. Oh God. Chelsea was indeed Bill's mini-me. Hillary realized that Bill would have wanted her to sell the rings for their daughter's future, and the be frank, she would have wanted Bill to do the same if they switched places. With her way forward clear, she held her head high, promising that would do whatever it took to give Chelsea a better life.

Just as what Bill did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have always wondered why nobody asked about what happened to Hillary's ring, so I gave the answer before anyone asked :P I just want to give you guys a taste of what Hillary had gone through in her early years in the US. She was broke at first, until she was able to acquire her necessary clearance and papers to work at the State Department as a bureaucrat. She was really broke at that time that she also had to work on weekends. But we all know what a workhorse Hillary was. In time, she managed to pay off her loans. Chelsea inherited her parents' brains so Hillary didn't have as much a hard time in funding her schooling. 
> 
> We will go back to the current time in the next chapter. Hillary will need to fix things with Chelsea and deal with the people at the National Security Council who were constantly watching her during her "honeymoon" with Bill.


	34. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part III of Spoils begins here. :)

**_Undisclosed Private Island, Bermuda, August 22, 2009_ **

The seagulls hovered above the private beach were Bill and Hillary were, their squawks, along with the sounds of the waves lapping the sandy shores, were the only sounds that could be heard in the lonely beach. The orange skies provided a sad backdrop to Hillary's impending departure. Hillary and Bill laced their fingers as they traversed the beautiful shore, waiting for Lanny's boat to arrive from the main island. 

This was the hour that they dreaded the most. In a few minutes time, they would go back to their normal lives, and they would go back to being adversaries. They weren't sure how they could handle it. After all, it's hard to work against someone you love. It was not like they were simply doing a moot court - or even a real one - and they were on the opposing benches. No. They were worlds apart, and they were fighting for the rule of the land. They were fighting for their beliefs and values. And if one of them succeeded, the other would surely fall. 

Hillary didn't want to think about the future yet. She just wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. She stared at the beautiful sunset and tightened her hold on his land. 

"This is beautiful, Billy," she admired the Bermudan sunset. No painting could ever capture the beauty of the landscape before her. "We never had sunsets like this in Rodinia."

"No, because we live in the city. The beautiful views are on the outskirts." He too wished that they saw sunsets like this when they were young. "Why didn't we go on vacations more often?"

"Because I was so engrossed over my career and building a family that I didn't realize how precious our time was. You even had to persuade me to come here." Hillary painfully confessed. "If I had known that our time together would be brief, I would have spent every second with you."

"Stop blaming yourself, Hilly. What is done, is done. I don't want to spend the rest of our remaining time second-guessing ourselves. We have a few minutes left together, and after that, who knows if we will see each other again." Those last words pierced his heart, and Bill knew it pierced hers too. 

Knowing that this might be their last, their minds worked in unison as they closed the space between them and reveled in each other's warmth in a loving, tender kiss. Hillary, in particular, was more needy and desperate, letting herself feel Bill as much as she can. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. She savored his taste and fill, etching those sensations on her brain. She needed this feeling; she needed this memory to keep her strong. 

Bill was pouring everything that he got unto her: his love, his loyalty, his faith. He needed to let her know that he was, is, and will always be hers. He needed her to know that if he had to sacrifice for her and for Chelsea, he would gladly do so all over again.

Silently, they wished that they could just kiss each other forever. If only that was possible. If only they weren't political adversaries and they were on the same team. But alas, they ended up on each other's crosshairs.

When the need for air overwhelmed them, they broke apart, but they immediately latched on the each other, wrapping the other with their arms and wounding them as tightly as they could.

"I will miss you so much, Billy. I really wish that you can come with me," she said, her face pressed on his chest.

"You know that's not going to happen. If I step foot in the US, they will never let us be together."

"I know. I can dream, can't I? When I found out that you are alive, I tried to organize the US assets to retrieve you from Rodinia. But you are already too entrenched in the Rodinian chain of command that the CIA turned down my request," Hillary confessed.

"I know they'd do that. I'm a liability. There's no way they'd want me. Unless it's my corpse."

"Oh don't say that," said Hillary, sounding upset.

Bill gently withdrew from his hold on her and caressed her face. "You know it's true. I am on the list. I am probably just below bin Laden. The US wasn't happy with what I did with your diplomats several years ago."

"Honey, it's an international crime for a government to hurt diplomats. You know that. And not just that. Your continued threat to bomb the US doesn't help."

"It's a conflict I try to live on every day," he admitted. "I am worried for you and Chelsea, but the US should pay for its sins."

"What sins? The United States had not harmed any Rodinian citizen. Rodinia and the US used to be allies until Loiseau ascended to power and it swerved towards Russia," Hillary reasoned.

Bill could only shake his head, his eyes on the white sand below them.

"You don't agree with that I just said," Hillary drew out what he wanted to say.

"Hilly, it's not just Loiseau's swerve towards Russia. You know I don't support that. We knew back then that he was a Russian stooge and we rejected him," Bill said.

"So what it is, Honey?" Hillary cupped his face so that he was looking at her. "I need to know what had changed to make you against the United States too. I need to know because I want peace, not war. I want to make progress with Rodinia, because I love you, and I love our motherland. If our two nations become friends again, maybe I can request for your immunity. And then you can walk free, with me on your side. And then we will retire and we will live the life we had always wanted. Please, Bill, I need to know."

Bill couldn't resist her pleading look.

"What about your request for a divorce? Does that still stand?"

"I..." Hillary bit her lip. She had almost forgotten that she had asked him for a divorce a few days ago. Truth be told, she could have gone back to the US and not remember her request, because Bill showed her that she didn't need to, because he loved her so much. But given where things stood at the moment, it would be foolish not to end their marriage.

Her heart wanted to drop the divorce, but her mind was telling her that she had to.

Hillary looked down in guilt. "I don't know. We have to break our marriage because of where we stand, but my heart is screaming no."

"I know what your heart says. And to be honest, things will be easier for us if we divorce."

Hillary just nodded.

"I will still give you the divorce if you want, but I will only grant it after you have read the Department of Defense report on the Rodinian War. If you side with the United States, then I will grant you the divorce. If you side with Rodinia, then I will not."

"Bill, that's unfair. I don't know what's in the report. I cannot agree to your terms blindly," Hillary objected. "And I do not see the need for this. You know I side with the United States. Why not just give the divorce right away?"

"Because I want you to know my reasons why I turned against the US. You will see everything in that report. Loiseau made me read a copy of it when I was in prison, and it convinced me that we were pinning our hopes on the wrong country."

"But what if Loiseau forged that report?" she remarked anxiously.

Bill shook his head. "It's the real thing. I've seen intel since then confirming that the US is doing what it can to prevent that report from being public. Think of the Pentagon Papers. The Rodinian Papers are of similar magnitude."

"I have heard no such thing, and I had in the State Department for more than 25 years," Hillary said defiantly.  

"They're specifically trying to hide the report from you, Hillary. Because you're such an asset to them, they can't risk you turning against them."

"I don't believe this, Bill. I know I risk jail time for saying these things to you, but I can tell you that this is a hoax. A conspiracy theory. The US did nothing for Rodinia but good. I mean, the US took a lot of Rodinian refugees, including me and your daughter!"

"I know what they did, and I am thankful that you were welcomed. However, it cannot erase the graver since it committed in the past," he said cryptically.

"Then please tell me what the US did. Please. I want to hear it from your lips."

"If I told you, there is no way that my words will be unbiased. You will doubt what I will say and nothing can ever change your mind. No. You need an objective source."

"If what you want me to read indeed came from the Department of Defense, why didn't the DoD just destroy it at the risk of being leaked or made public?" Hillary challenged his logic.

"Because the President of the United States found out about it and he was outraged at what he read, but he could not simply release it because it will be a blow to the US military. Using his executive powers, the President ordered that the report be under his office so that the DoD could not destroy it."

"President, meaning Obama?"

"No. President, meaning Eisenhower."

Hillary gasped. She didn't realize this deception had been going on for at least half a century. She didn't like that Bill was forcing her to read the report, but the manner of which it was hidden from the public made her intrigued about the contents of the said report.

"Alright, I will read the report," she conceded. "Once I have, I will send word about my response."

"No, you don't need to, or else you might be picked up in an intelligence intercept. Just read, and I will know."

"But how...?"

"Just trust me," he smiled, caressing her cheek again.

His smile was enough to take her mind off the more serious things. God, she would miss that smile so much. She held on to him, just a little longer, savoring those last minutes that she had with him. 

From afar, they heard the sound of the yacht approaching. They looked around and saw Lanny docking on the boat on the shore. They both gazed at the boat dreadfully, as they knew their time was up. Hillary was more unwilling to go, but there was nothing they could do. 

When Lanny laid down the plank from the boat to the shore, Bill, for the last time kissed her forehead and guided her as she stepped on the plank. Hillary didn't look at him because she would cry if she did. She didn't want to cry anymore. Doing so would only make things harder for both of them. 

Lanny led Hillary to the inside of the yacht where she could rest comfortably. Hillary kept her head low so that her companion couldn't see the mist in her eyes. Lanny let her settle inside the cabin as he went back outside for final instructions from Bill. 

He found Bill more downcast than he had ever seen him. Bill too looked a lot like his wife: his head down and his hands on his pockets. Lanny knew and felt the sadness that had been going through them, but he thought it was best to let them go through their grief in peace. 

"Sir, we'll be going now," said Lanny, snapping Bill from his deep thoughts. 

"Ah...yes. Well, take care. Take her to her hotel room and make sure she's safe," Bill told him. 

"I will, Sir."

"Any sign of my daughter in the main island?" Bill asked. 

Lanny shook his head. "No, Sir. Our sources said she already left for the US."

"Ah. Alright then. Take Hillary back to the island and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

Lanny did as he was told. Before he went for the cockpit, he turned around for a last glance of his Supreme Leader. His head was down again, and he was walking towards the rest house. All this time, he thought Bill's attraction to Hillary was simply out of lust, a need that could be satisfied. But looking at him now, Lanny realized how mistaken he was. What he saw as an image of a man about to be torn from the love of his life - again - and he was still carrying himself without any hint of bitterness. Lanny's respect for Bill multiplied tenfold. If there was one man who deserved to have his wife beside him, it was Bill. 

Sighing, Lanny turned his back towards the horizon. As much as he wanted happiness for Bill and Hillary, they should not be allowed to be together. At least, not yet. 

Until Hillary learned what drove Bill to the other side.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really excited for this part because of what will happen at the end of Part III (which will open Part IV LOL). Pat III was never supposed to happen but meh, this is pure fiction so I can do whatever I want. :P


	35. Indecision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part III really kicks off in this chapter

**_Chelsea Rodham's Apartment, New York City, August 25, 2009_ **

Hillary emerged from the elevator on the 17th floor of Chelsea's apartment building. She had flown directly to New York from Bermuda after she had patched things up with Bill. Exhausted and deprived of sleep, Hillary had powered her way to New York instead of resting in her DC home. She had to do this right away. She owed Chelsea this much. 

Hillary walked towards the door that bore the number 1752. She silently uttered a prayer before knocking on the door. After thee knocks, the door opened, but it was not Chelsea who had answered. 

"Hi, Hillary," Marc greeted his fiancé’s mother. "What brings you here?"

"Hi," Hillary replied tentatively. "Is Chelsea here?"

"Yes, she's sleeping, actually. She's been upset for days. She couldn't sleep ever since she got back from vacation but I couldn't give her sleeping pills because you know, the baby. So, I just gave her chamomile tea and thankfully it worked. I didn't know what happened during her vacation and she wouldn't tell me. Do you know anything about it?"

Hillary bit her lip, feeling extremely guilty for the state of her daughter. "That's what I came here for. I came to comfort her."

"Sure. Come in, come in."

Marc had graciously offered her a cup of tea, and the accepted. Hillary opened the fridge and took out ingredients for chicken soup. Chelsea needed a mother right now, and that was she was going to give her just that. 

"Oh, Hillary! Let me cook for you," Marc tried to get the knife and the cutting board out of Hillary's hands. 

"No, Marc. Let me," she insisted. "Chelsea needs me right now. I want to take care of her."

Marc was touched by Hillary's concern and protectiveness of her daughter that he let her continue cooking.

"Alright," Marc said. "While you do that, I am going to clean the apartment. Just call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks, Marc. I appreciate it." Hillary prepared slices of bread and a glass of water to go along with the soup. With Chelsea's breakfast all ready, Hillary carried the breakfast tray all the way to Chelsea's room. 

When Hillary opened the door to the bedroom, she found Chelsea already awake, but still snuggled in bed. The sudden intrusion caused the younger Rodham to bolt up in her bed and pull the covers towards her. 

"Relax, Baby. It's just Mom," Hillary assured her. "Here, I have your favorite: creamy chicken noodle soup!"

Chelsea cringed a little at her mother's sing-song voice and ignored the tray of food laid in front of her. "What are you doing here, Mom?"

Hillary sat next to her. "I thought you needed your Mom right now."

Chelsea's eyes were reduced to slits. "Why? You and your lover had a fight so you abandoned him and you suddenly remembered that you had a daughter?"

Hillary hid the sting of Chelsea's comments with a poker face. She did feel a little guilty spending some time with Bill while her daughter fled in rage. 

"No matter what you say, Darling, nothing I have said in Bermuda will change. I love your father..."

"Don't say that," Chelsea interrupted angrily. "I have no such father."

"Darling," Hillary held Chelsea's face tenderly, but the latter refused to look at her. "I know it will hard to accept the truth, and I am sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I couldn't because I am protecting you and America's deepest held secret. But I should have worked harder to make it possible for you to know the truth early on. I was going to wait for the President to give me a clearance so I can share it with you, but..."

"You know what," Chelsea pushed her mother's hand away. "I don't want to hear your excuses, because it all boils down to the same thing: that you didn't tell me. Now I don't know how to live with the fact that I am a spawn of a blood-thirsty, power-hungry despot..."

"Please don't say that," Hillary's pleading fell on to deaf ears. 

"Isn't that the language used by previous Secretaries of State on Bill Clinton?" Chelsea snapped, "why should you not follow protocol? After all, isn't your love for protocol the reason why you didn't bother telling me about my parentage?"

"Honey, no. It's not like that." Every word that came out of Chelsea's mouth felt like a stab in her heart. "I know I have made mistakes in the past, and I regret it deeply. Now, with everything that had happened, you deserve to hear the truth from me."

"So what you're saying is that if I hadn't stumbled upon Lanny and brought me to Bermuda, I wouldn't have deserved to hear the truth from you?"

"No! Of course not," Hillary's voice was gentle. "Honey, I love you so much..."

"Just go, Mom." Normally, Chelsea would have reciprocated her mother's declaration of love, but at the moment, she didn't want to hear it. "I need some time alone."

Hillary, as much as she wanted to plead Chelsea to listen, couldn't begrudge the latter's request to be alone. "Alright. Eat your soup, Honey. It's your favorite."

"Okay."

"Call me if you need me."

"I will."

Chelsea didn't even look when her mother left her bedroom. Hillary found Marc, who was already helping himself with a bowl of soup. She pretended to be cheery as she bid Marc goodbye. As soon as Hillary closed the door to Chelsea's apartment, her vision was blurred by the mist of tears threatening to fall.

**_En route to Aldenkirk, August 25, 2009_ **

Throughout the duration of his chartered flight back to Rodinia, Bill spent most of the time just gazing at the windows and in deep thought. Though he knew Hillary had landed safely back in the United States, he still couldn't help but worry about her. It seemed that after their short rendezvous in Bermuda, a lot of things had changed. Now they knew they still love each other, he tried to figure out how to still advance his agenda without hurting her personally. Sure, Hillary is a tough girl and he knew better than to undermine her strength, but his husbandly instincts had kicked in. He was unsure if he could still throw a hard a punch at the US if he knew that in some way, Hillary would be hurt. Or be in trouble. 

It seemed that he had lost some of the fire in his belly.

Ever since Hillary left, Bill kept pondering about Hillary's request for a divorce. He loved her more than anything else in the world, and he would give her what she wanted only if she had read the Department Defense's classified report on their participation on the Rodinian War and she had decided that they no longer have anything in common. She needed to know what had turned him against the United States. She deserved to know, and he deserved to be heard.

However, Bill still couldn't just let her go. How could he if he spent a good portion of thirty years trying to suppress the feelings he still had for her and then suddenly, the ember in his heart suddenly caught fire? A small part of him was screaming that he works out an exit from the pedestals of power and then turn himself to the US authorities. That way, he would be allowed to see Hillary, even if he was in house arrest or even behind bars. He was seriously entertaining this idea. He would probably do it, but not before Hillary read what was inside that report.

Lanny had been on the plane with Bill, and he noticed the unusual behavior of his friend and Supreme Leader. Worried, Lanny left his seat and sat across Bill. He gently punched the very thoughtful Bill, who jumped when he felt the slight pain of the punch.

"Your thoughts are deeper than the Marianas Trench," Lanny remarked. "Is it about your wife?"

Bill stretched his arms and legs and pushed the recliner button, settling on his seat more comfortably. But he still looked tense. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes, just because I knew what you did. I've never seen you so engrossed over something, and that's saying something because you run a fucking country."

"Sorry," Bill apologized. "She's been living rent-free in my head ever since I met her."

"Clearly," Lanny looked at Bill with a bit of confusion and a bit of pity. "What are you thinking?"

"She had asked for a divorce. I told her I'd give it, if she reads the report on the Rodinian War and if she sides with the United States on this."

"But Bill, no one with a conscience will side with the United States after they read the report, assuming if they believed it," Lanny reasoned. "You're luring her into a trap! You know she'd ultimately side against the United States on this."

Bill sighed. "I know. I want to know if she still holds the ideals that we shared."

Lanny shook his head. "If that's the case, Bill, you never really intended to let her go. You know she's bound to side with Rodinia, even just privately."

Bill simply closed his eyes. His divorce trap and Plan B all point to the fact that he still wanted to be with her.

Lanny seemed to have read his mind. "You have to let her go, even though it hurts. It's the best for both of you. You need to withdraw your condition because once she reads the report, she will realize that you have tricked her into this. She might despise you for that."

Bill looked up at the ceiling and held a deep sigh. Lanny was right. He shouldn’t have laid that trap on Hillary, but it was too late to walk that back. Surely, any attempt to contact her would be captured by the US intelligence.

“I bet Hillary will tell NSC about the divorce, and they will keep the report as far away as possible from her,” Bill remarked.

“But the President is in control of that report,” Lanny corrected him. “the NSC can’t do anything if Obama thinks she can have it.”

“Hmmmmm,” Bill thought of ways to make sure how Hillary could have access to that high-level report. “I think Obama will give it to him.”

“What makes you think he will?” Lanny challenged.

“Obama is aloof, but not without conscience,” Bill said. “He has a higher moral fiber than his predecessor. He will avoid confrontation as much as he could to a fault.”

Lanny sensed something more with that statement. “Are you suggesting that you want to start talks with Obama? Are you willing to come to the table now?”

“Anything’s on the table. I am not discounting anything,” Bill replied.

Lanny couldn’t believe it. The Bill he knew would reject talks with the Americans outright. But now, he was actually considering talking to the Americans, the same people who had destroyed Rodinia and heralded themselves as Rodinia’s saviors!

“What has happened to you, Bill?” Lanny said in disgust. “Has nonstop sex with your wife addled your brains? What do you want now? A quiet retirement with her and throwing away everything we had fought for?”

Bill was tempted to say “yes”, but he knew better than that.

“Whether it’s peace talks or a full frontal assault, it’s still in limbo,” Bill replied. “I need to consult with my men before we do anything. I don’t want to make the wrong move.”

For the first time in years, Lanny had doubted Bill’s wisdom. He had always admired him for his fierceness and unforgiving attitude towards the Americans. He wished that this was just a momentary lapse because he was tired from the trip. If not…Lanny would rather not think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will see more of Chelsea, Lanny, John Podesta and Neil in the upcoming chapters. Since Hillary will be back in her job, we will see more of the international relations drama unfolding. I will try to insert a couple of flashback chapters once in a while. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for supporting this story! I know it's been running so long and I hope you aren't bored with this ^_^


	36. A Fresh Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update dump! This and the final installment of 9 Hours are going to be uploaded today!

_**Office of the State Department, State Department Building, Washington D.C., September 7, 2009** _

Hillary was relieved and grateful that she was finally left alone in her office. Her first day back at work was marked by a non-stop influx of visitors and well-wishers in her office. She barely got any real work done, except for that daily meeting with her top staff (who were also back at work following their leaves post-Rodinia) and some phone calls with the President and Sen. John Kerry, who was the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Now everyone out of the way, she planned to read some briefings until probably 10 PM. She asked her assistant to order some Chinese takeout for her as it was very likely that she'll eat dinner there. She grabbed a binder from the stack that had been sitting on her table since that morning. She opened it and, surprise, surprise, it was the North Korea briefing material. From what she had gathered from the news and from conversations with her colleagues, Kim Jong Il was still communicating with China despite the private pledge to their diplomats that he would suspend talks with China as they investigated the presence of Chinese military vessels in their shores. Hillary rolled her eyes. It wasn't hard to figure out that Kim knew the presence of those vessels. The outrage was just a public spectacle to make the US think their relationship was souring. That would never happen. China was North Korea's biggest backer and the only reason why they weren't in the negotiating table with the US and her allies.

Hillary missed reading these briefings. She hated nothing more than being out of the loop. And with these briefings, she slowly injected herself into the decision-making process of the government. She was eager to absorb every bit of detail laid out in the briefings so that she wouldn't be clueless when President Obama called for a National Security meeting.

Speaking of National Security, Hillary still had a bone to pick with Tom Donilon. While Tom had been instrumental in tracking Chelsea's whereabouts leading to their meeting in Bermuda, Hillary wasn't as forgiving as he expected her to be. She was contemplating filing a case against the administration for her unlawful surveillance, but she was worried about the possibility of leaks that could damage the administration, and in turn, the hard work that they had put to make the US safer and more secure. Hillary spoke with the legal counsel at the State Department and he brought up the option of suing them once she is out of office. The idea was appealing to her, but she would have to really think it through.

Around an hour later, Hillary heard a knock on the door. She expected it to be her assistant with her Chinese food. Instead, she was stunned to see Neil carrying what seemed to be a take-out bag, and the smell of lasagna and cheese filled the air.

"Neil? What are you doing here?" Hillary stood up from her seat. "You didn't set an appointment."

"I didn't," he replied. "I thought I'd bring you some dinner. I asked your assistant if I can enter and she said okay. Maybe she still didn't know we already broke up."

Hillary rubbed her forehead. "You have to understand your boundaries, Neil. You can't just barge in and..."

"I know," he said apologetically. "I just jumped on the chance when your assistance let me in."

Hillary sighed, exasperated. "Never do that again, please."

"I won't," said Neil, relieved that she dropped the issue. "By the way, I came here to bring you dinner." He drew closer to her and handed her the plastic bag. "Lasagna."

"Neil, I can't just accept gifts from you. We aren't dating anymore. I am the Secretary of State and you..."

"...are a member of the House Foreign Relations Committee," Neil finished for her. "I know where we stand. I just came here for a talk."

"The lasagna can appear as a bribe in court, Neil. I can't accept that," she said.

"Oh, well," Neil was disappointed that she didn't receive his gift. "Can we still talk, though?"

Hillary would have told him that she was in the middle of reading multiple briefings but didn't want to be interrupted, but she offered him to sit down. "Alright. But keep it brief, though. I still have more work to do."

"Right," Neil said. "First of all, I want to apologize for spying on you and participating in the government's surveillance activity on you. I tried to play the hero when I should have instead talked to you about it."

Hillary's heart softened for Neil. She was still angry at him, but not so much now.

"I appreciate the candor and the sincerity," she said. "I wish the others are like you."

"Well, the others didn't date you so they have a lesser concern for your emotion," he said.

"Point taken."

"And they are angry at me that I blew the whole operation off. They still don't trust you do separate your personal and professional feelings on Rodinia. Bermuda only intensified that belief."

"Tell me something I don't know, Neil..."

"I know that you already have an idea of that, but I still think it's prudent to tell you."

She sighed. "I wish you told me things sooner. Things would have ended differently."

Neil shook his head. "I don't know about that. Maybe if I became more forthcoming, we would still be dating, but we're bound to break up. You know that."

Hillary bit her lip. Neil was right.

"We were informed about the incident in Bermuda by the White House," Neil explained. "Expect that you'll be called by the Gang of Eight pretty soon."

"I know. I am prepared for the consequences of what I did. I am prepared to step down if necessary. But I am confident that I did no wrongdoing."

"I didn't say you did. It's just that the Gang of Eight and the White House may not trust you as much. Given that Clinton practically blackmailed you through your divorce."

"Let me be clear, the White House never trusted me in the first place," she clarified, irritated that people acted as if she didn't know what she was doing, "or at least the President's aides never did. As I've said, I am prepared to step down if necessary. I love my job but if they see that I am the one endangering America, then I shall go."

Neil looked quite a bit stunned by her declaration. "I see."

"And furthermore, I can assure you that nothing will change in the US's foreign policy towards Rodinia," she said.

"Alright." Neil sat there, silent. He didn't know what to say. The dead air surrounding them felt awkward at first until it was too uncomfortable to bear. Neil tried to open up another conversation.

"There's another reason for my visit."

"Oh, really? What is that?"

"I feel like we need to properly end our relationship," he said. "Like a proper closure."

Hillary, who had been clutching her briefing book the whole time, pushed it away and folded her arms. "Alright."

"I am really sorry for what I did. But you already know that" Neil said. "But as I've said before, I've known for a while that we will part ways at some point. I mean, I know you're married to Clinton, and you're citing logistical reasons as to why you can't get out of your marriage, but I felt that you're not really trying when you said that. And things between us quietly went south when you came back from Rodinia. I knew something had changed. You were hurt and all, but I felt like you were distant, and that's not because you were suffering from trauma. It was that you missed the man you left in Rodinia."

Hillary's face was stoic. What he said was 100% true.

"I don't accuse you of being unfaithful or anything. I am just saying that the writing on the wall was clear. It’s just a matter of time before we draw apart. And here we are.”

She closed her eyes. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that. For the first time, she felt at peace with herself and the decisions she had made for the past thirty years.

“Thank you,” she said as she opened her eyes again. “Thank you for saying what other people won’t.”

“Your welcome,” a small smile appeared on his lips. “I hope we can be civil. Or even friends.”

“I think I can do that,” she bit her lip, “but please don’t expect that we will be more than that. I don’t want you to raise your expectations.”

“I know,” he said. “it’s hard, but I will move on. That’s life, right?”

Yes. That was life. Life sometimes pelts you with rocks or throw flowers. But in Hillary’s case, it was more of rocks than flowers.

Seeing that there was very little to talk about, Neil stood up and insisted that she keep the lasagna. Her grumbling stomach was grateful, and she promised to repay him with dinner.

“I’ll be looking forward to that,” Neil said as she was about to grab the door handle. “There’s one last thing I want to tell you, Hillary.”

“What’s that?”

“Some conservative members of the House are not happy with Boehner’s leadership anymore,” Neil said, “and in the coming weeks, they’ll move to force Boehner out of the minority leader post. They want me to run for Boehner’s position instead.”

Hillary was secretly happy for Neil. “I hope you get it.”

“Because it will mean the House will be kinder to you?” he quipped.

For the first time in their conversation, a smile appeared on her face. “You can say that. But I really do hope you get it.”

“Thank you. I am just glad that I got the endorsement of the Secretary of State,” he said.

“Yeah, too bad you can’t use my endorsement.”

“But still, it still feels good to know that you got my back. I’ll see you around Hillary.”

“Goodbye.”

Hillary stared at the door that Neil had just closed. Her heart felt a little lighter now than when she entered her office hours ago. She needed some comfort, and Neil gave it to him. But she had no illusions about the two of them. After all, he could never replace Bill to begin with no matter how hard he tried, or how hard she pretended that he could.

**_Fort William Jefferson Clinton, Stratenberg, Rodinia, September 14, 2009_ **

Bill sat in the control room of the Loiseau I, the long-range missile that the Rodinian military had been developing for years. Based on the previous testing, it could fly up to Florida before it would fall into the waters between the state and Cuba. Loiseau I would carry the nuclear warhead that was as powerful as 10,000 tons of TNT. He was called from Aldenkirk to formally inspect the missile. While he was out of the country, the Rodinian intelligence chiefs have formalized the report on Loiseau I and handed the report to him when he returned.

He stood there, amazed at the contraption. This is what he and Desmond Loiseau had been dreaming for decades, and it was now ready to strike at any moment. He was awed by the intelligence of human beings. From scraps of rubber and metal, they could create machines, machines to work a thousand times faster than they ever could, machines that could analyze the emotions of humans.

And machines that could kill.

As he gazed on the missile, Bill felt empty. This missile was the fulfillment of his years of hard work and sacrifice. He should have had a sense of accomplishment when he saw it. But no. He felt that the existence of the missile was completely pointless. He would bomb the US, and the US would bomb them and they would

bomb again...the cycle would never end. So why would he want that missile in his arsenal?

"Your Excellency," the chief of the Rodinian Air Force approached Bill. "Is there a problem with the missile?"

Bill was startled. "No, no! I was just taking my time admiring it. It's incredible."

"I am glad that you approve, Your Excellency," said the chief. "Our men have worked hard to complete this project. I am sure that they will be happy when I tell them your admiration for their work.”

"Of course, I am always proud of the men and women in our nation’s service,” said Bill. His gaze fell back on the missile. The chief excused himself and let Bill admire the missile. Once the chief was gone, he let himself sigh.

Bill's reaction did not go unnoticed to his aide, John Podesta, who was closely watching him just a few feet behind.


	37. Intercepted

**_Undisclosed Location, Serbia, September 20, 2009_ **

John Podesta drove his Toyota Yaris along the unpaved roads in this remote region in Serbia. He was in Serbia to meet with Russian officials to report the successful completion of Loiseau I. The Russians were happy about the progress and they were willing to block any UN resolution condemning the construction of the aforementioned nuclear weapon. They were also willing to send experts John played his part well in delivering the good news to the Russian and promising to relay the messages from the Kremlin to his Supreme Leader.   

According to his official schedule, he was supposed to be having a short holiday in Serbia with his wife after the meeting. His wife was instead relaxing on a beach in Lesbos with her lover, and he was traveling on this remote area of Serbia for a secret meeting.

At the end of the unpaved road was a wooden cottage. It was surrounded by a short wooden fence. It was a resthouse rented by the people he was going to meet. They simply told him to go to this place and sent him a spare key to the resthouse.

He parked his car half a mile from the resthouse to as to not arouse suspicion. From there, he walked back to the resthouse. He took the key from his pocket and opened the front foor. Before he entered, the cocked his gun which was hanging in his holster.

When he opened the door, there was no one inside. Not a sign of any living soul. He checked the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom. Nothing. But then there was a set of stair leading up to the second floor. Sighing deeply, he took his gun from the holster and pointed it in his forward direction.

At the end of the stairs was a singular bedroom. He pressed his ear on the bedroom and there was nary a sound. His heart raced. He was beginning to think that this was a set-up. He turned the knob ever so slightly, and he realized that it was unlocked. He licked his lips as he calmed his anxious self. On the count of one, two, three...

He opened the door and immediately pointed the gun at two men who were sitting on the edge of the bed. He had seen them before. Their faces were on countless briefing materials. He knew all about them. Their family, background, medical history, every violation committed in the US and abroad. There was nothing about them that he didn't know.

And likewise, there was nothing about him that the two men didn't know.

One of the men, a white-haired man with a receding hairline, spoke first. He raised his hands to show him he came in peace.

"What is the password?" John asked testily.

"Mos Eisley Cantina," said the man with the white hair.

"Coruscant," said the other man.

"How about you?" asked the white-haired man, "what's the password?"

Without flinching, John answered, "Tatooine".

Satisfied with each other's answers, John dropped his gun and proceeded to shake hands with the two men.

"It's good to see you," said Bob Gates, the white-haired man.

"We're glad you can come," added Tom Donilon, Gates' companion.

"I am glad to finally meet you two in person, but I must say that it feels unusual for me to meet my handlers. I've never met any of your predecessors," said John.

"We understand, but you know how things drastically changed during the past few months. What we are about to confer to you cannot be intercepted, so we risk going here just so we can tell you ourselves," said Bob.

"I figured as much," John said, unsurprised.

Bob Gates pulled a chair for John to sit on while he and Tom sat on the edge of the bed where they used to be.

Bob cleared his throat. "I presume you know what happened to Eagle and Evergreen a few weeks ago?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," said John.

"Yes, well. Evergreen has already told the President about her deal with Eagle," supplied Tom.

"And?" asked John expectantly.

"He's considering it. And I bet he will loan her a copy of it. Unredacted," said Bob. "He's an upright man and naive to a fault. He's willing to take the brunt of her anger if she does bear hatred against the government."

John wiped his face exasperatedly. "Jesus Christ. What a reckless man."

"I can't say I can blame him. I was shocked when my predecessor passed this on to me," said Tom. "But it will be worse for the US if anybody outside the original circle - the NSC, State and Defense - knows about it. Condi knows about it too, and she just didn't tell Evergreen for obvious reasons."

"Worst case I can think of is Hillary resigns in protest," remarked Tom. "Since she had such an ordeal, it won't be a surprise to the public."

"That's fine, right?" John said, not seeing the alarm.

Bob shook his head. "Not really, because somehow this has made its way to a journalist."

John's face fell. "What?!"

"A staffer from the Armed Services Committee showed the papers to a New York Times reporter," explained Tom. "How the staffer knew about it, we don’t know for sure, but it was probably through her boyfriend who works at DoD. We are pretty sure that no one in Congress has known about this report yet.”

“And the reporter kept pestering sources,” added Bob. “Our friends and colleagues who’ve been asked by that reporter were questioning us about the authenticity of her claims. Of course, we denied it. The facts of the report are so egregious that it’s not hard to believe the contrary.”

“So,” said John. “What do you need me to do?”

Bob and Tom looked at each other before they turned to John.

“We need you to destroy the sole copy of the report that is kept in Rodinia.”

_**Lanny Davis' Residence, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, September 20, 2009** _

Thousands of miles away from that remote region in Serbia, Lanny Davis sat in front of his laptop and downloaded what seemed to be a stock image sent to him in his burner email address. He opened his decrypting program and uploaded the image. Seconds later, the image had vanished, what became of it was a set of GPS coordinates. Lanny searched for the location of the coordinates online, and he found out that the coordinates pointed to a remote region in Serbia.

Lanny looked at his laptop with satisfaction. He had spent weeks tracking John Podesta's move and he felt he was successful.

This was a significant development, and he intended to let Bill know of this.

_**Bill Clinton's Private Quarters, Government Complex,**_ Aldenkirk _ **, Rodinia, September 21, 2009**_

Bill wasn't exactly surprised when he opened his own burner email and saw Lanny's report. He had been asking Lanny to keep tabs on John for months, as he couldn't do the spying himself. It only confirmed what he knew: that John Podesta, his most trusted aide-de-camp, was a spy working for the American government. John could not have been double-crossing the Americans because John hid that fact from him.

A mole. That's what John was. A mole.

And he had a simple rule regarding moles.

Exterminate. Immediately.

**_Russell Senate Office Building, September 28, 2009_ **

Hillary emerged from her meeting with the Gang of Eight exhausted and bruised, but nonetheless politically unscathed. The Senate and House leaders were not happy that she made such a deal with Bill Clinton, but they agreed that it was best to keep it under the wraps. Hillary braced for the beating, though. She knew she deserved the berating and the harsh words. She would have done the same if she was in their shoes.

As she slipped into her car, she absentmindedly dialed Chelsea's number. Her heart fell when she heard Chelsea's robotic response for the millionth time since she left the latter's apartment. "Hi. This is Chelsea Rodham. I'm sorry I can't talk to you right now. Please leave a message." Hillary had been trying to call her daughter ever since their not-so-good reunion in New York but all she got from her was her answering machine recording. She texted her multiple times, asking her how she was, and nothing. Chelsea wouldn’t respond to her texts and calls. As her mother, Hillary was torn to pieces at her cold treatment.

Without thinking, Hillary left a message. She decided weeks ago that she would give up leaving messages to her, but she felt like she needed to this time.

"Hi, Baby. It's me, Mom," said Hillary. "I hope you're fine. I just got home from a bruising meeting with Congress. I just want you to know that I miss you. I hope we can speak soon. I miss cooking and baking for you. And I want to know how far along you are in your pregnancy. I can't wait to give you mommy tips. I hope you'll call or text back. I love you."

When she finished her message, Hillary refused to cry, but she couldn't help it.

**_Bill Clinton's Office, Government Complex, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, September 28, 2009_ **

Bill listened to Hillary's last recorded message to Chelsea over and over again. His heart broke every time he listened to the audio. He felt it was his fault that Chelsea was mad at her mother. He started wiretapping her calls ever since they parted ways in Bermuda, only because he craved to hear her voice every now and then. He did not dare listen to her official calls. He had his spies for that. He just wished to feel closer to her.

Bill wanted to call her to comfort her, to let her know that she was not alone. But he himself knew it was such a big gamble.

He weighed on the risks and the rewards. His desire to speak to her was like an itch that he needed to scratch, but he had to protect himself from prying eyes and ears.

Bill closed his eyes, imagining Hillary’s smile again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much packed into this chapter. I need to get things really moving along! LOL


	38. Plans and Pleas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still on a writer's block :(
> 
> Also, I made a mistake a few chapters ago. At this pt in the story, the Speaker is Nancy Pelosi, not John Boehner. So Neil would be running for the position of Minority Leader, not Speaker. So I fixed the affected chapter. :)

**_Office of the House Minority Leader, US Capitol, November 12, 2009_ **

  
Neil's receptionist graciously led Hillary towards the receiving area. Hillary was told that Neil would join them momentarily as he was just wrapping up a meeting with the House Republican leaders. This was Neil's first leadership meeting, as he was elected minority leader a few days ago, successfully ousting John Boehner. It was his challenge now to rein in the ideologue members of his caucus from doing anything drastic. His new job was going to be a tightrope walk, trying to keep both the establishment and extreme-right members happy, but Hillary was confident that he could do it.

Not long after she was welcomed, the door of the office flew open and Neil, texting on his phone, emerged. Hillary thought the stress of his new job started to seep in, as she had never seen his frown so deep.

Hillary immediately stood up, and when Neil finally looked up, he caught her so.

"Oh, Hillary!" Neil's face suddenly lit up and kissed her on the cheek. "It's so lovely to see you."

"I'm am glad to see you too," Hillary reciprocated the gesture. "Congratulations, Mr. Minority Leader."

"Oh, Hill," he brushed her compliments in modesty. "I am still 'ol Neil."

"Oh I know, I know. But you have power now. You can become Speaker next year! Third in line to the presidency!"

"I bet you are praying it won't happen, you being a Democrat and all," he teased. "Please, take a sit."

He and Hillary both took their seats across each other.

"You look happier than I've seen you before. The working life really suits you, Hill," said Neil.

"Thanks. I am happy to be back at work. And I am receiving treatment for my PTSD. I am glad that things are back to usual now," Hillary happily replied.

"I know. Did my colleagues give you a hard time in the budget hearing earlier?"

"Nothing that I can't handle. You know how they are," Hillary grinned.

"Poor folks. They thought they have a chance at taking a shot at American hero, Hillary Rodham, but the lady is a champion debater."

"Oh stop it, Neil. It's not much. It's not hard when you know that they support you behind close doors and everything they do in front of the camera is just a stunt."

"Good point. But seriously, Hill. If my men give you a tiniest hint of trouble, just tell me."

"Hmmmm, I think I already want you to be Speaker."

"Don't let Nancy here you say that," Neil laughed. "She'll be mad at me."

In the middle of their laughter, Neil's aide brought them coffee. The two thanked the aide before getting their own cup.

"So," Hillary blew her coffee, "What is the agenda for today?"

Neil look around and signalled his aides to give them privacy. The aides immediately went left them alone.

Neil took a sip of his coffee before speaking. "I already talked to the President about loaning you the report Clinton asked you to read."

Hillary froze. "What did he say?"

"He said he's still thinking about it," Neil replied. "The contents are very sensitive, he said. And he's also contemplating giving us congressional leaders a copy. No one apart from ourselves will be able to read it. We will be given a secure laptop if we want to peruse the thing."

"What made the President consider giving you a copy?" Hillary asked.

"The past few months, meaning your ordeal in Rodinia, was a factor. Also, our sources tell us that someone from the New York Times is assembling the report. Apparently, someone from the Defense Department got hold of a copy and passed it to an intermediary. If the report goes public, the blowback will be nothing like we have ever seen. We too needed to be prepared."

Hillary stared at the carpet, sighing. "The universe isn't making it easy for me."

"I'm sorry, Hillary, but we have to brace ourselves for the fallout," said Neil.

"But with that threat, there is more reason for the President to let me read the thing!" she exclaimed.

Neil rubbed his jaw. "I think you probably deduced by now that the report isn't pretty. I think the President doesn't want you to get more hurt that you are now. I mean after all that you've been through..."

"But my feelings shouldn't matter when the safety of the United States is at stake," Hillary said forcefully. "If he feels I will not have the capacity to lead the State Department after I read the report, I will willingly step down..."

"Please, don't be brash, Hill," Neil pleaded. "Nobody said anything about resignation..."

"Neil," Hillary was almost kneeling in front of Neil, "I need to read it. I need to finally sever my ties with Bill. And he won't give me the divorce I asked for unless I read that report!"

"Hillary, do you even hear yourself?" said a stunned Neil, "I know divorce is the most logical option for you and Clinton right now, but why the urgency? You said you love the guy..."

Hillary couldn't anymore contain her emotions. "And I still do, Neil! You know that. But I need to know the contents of that report! I need to know if the husband that I used to know is still there. I need to know if Bill, the man who loved me and gave me Chelsea, is still the same man who abducted thirty years later. Please the President to allow me to read the report."

"But Hillary," Neil bit his lip, "what if he's not there anymore? What if Bill is not anymore the man you used to know?"

Hillary looked far away, her eyes swimming in tears.

"Then I guess," she said, "I never met a man named William Jefferson in the library."

**_Undisclosed Location, Rodinia, November 13, 2009_ **

John Podesta stepped inside an abandoned warehouse to find a handful of large, burly men. The men were called by their commander and were told that they would be met by a senior commander. They didn't know that the senior commander who would be meeting them was the Supreme Leader's aide-de-camp himself. The men assumed their parade positions and gave John a gun salute, to which the latter immediate waived off. John ordered the men at ease.

"Gentlemen," John began, "I am here on a most important mission."

The soldiers were listening intently.

"We have intercepted that the United States have sent Hillary Rodham to Bermuda to personally meet with out Supreme Leader in order to cloud his judgement and to persuade him to abandon his campaign against the United States via emotional and sexual manipulation," narrated John. "But, our Supreme Leader is stronger than that. He has not succumbed to Rodham's invitations. He knows a snake when he sees one."

The soldiers seemed to nod, and John knew the soldiers agreed with him.

"Therefore, it is the decision of the Supreme Leader that we exterminate Hillary Rodham once and for all," John said. "In a few days time, she will be in Davos for World Economic Forum. We will strike there. We will neutralize Hillary Rodham, and we will finally eliminate Rodinia's number one enemy."

As John walked around, he saw the gleam in each soldier's eye. No doubt they were eager to take down Hillary Rodham.

"There is little doubt that the United States will point their fingers at us, and they will," he continued. "They will engage us in war, and when that happens, they have a thing coming. They don't know what Loiseau I can do to them."

The soldiers would have jumped in joy if they weren't in front of their commander, but their palpable happiness was already enough for John.

"Now, I want you, with the intelligence arm, device a plan to infiltrate Davos and assassinate Hillary Rodham. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" the men answered.

"Good," John said,satisfied. "You are dismissed."

The men gave him another salute and went on to leave the warehouse, excitedly chattering. John was satisfied with how the briefing smoothly went. After the men had left, he too left the warehouse and drove his military jeep out of the area and into Aldenkirk.

When he arrived at his office, he was surprised to see Bill Clinton inside.

"Where have you been, John?" he asked.

The singular gulp in John's throat didn't escape Bill's notice.


	39. Blood and Bombshell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

**_John Podesta's Office, Government Complex, Aldenkirk, Rodinia, November 13, 2009_ **

Bill sat in John's chair as its owner entered the office, disheveled and visibly exhausted. The singular gulp in John's throat didn't escape Bill's notice. His trained instincts worked immediately, and his brain whirred into life. It didn't take a genius to know that John was hiding something, and unfortunately for him, Bill knew exactly what it was.

"Podesta," Bill said, his voice deeper than usual. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I've just had a meeting with Turpin," said John, trying not to appear he was lying. Turpin was the chief of Fort WJC, the airbase that housed Loiseau I. Indeed, he had a meeting with Turpin, but it was hours ago.

"I see," said Bill, catching him in his lie. "Turpin was on the phone with me two hours ago. I needed you because I wanted to ask something, but you were gone."

John froze, knowing that he was caught in his lie. They both knew that he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

"Sir," John said, "I felt a little ill so I stayed home in my apartment."

Bill wasn't buying it, mainly because one of the men who John met after his meeting with Turpin reported back to him. "I see," he pretended to accept John's excuse. "You should take the rest of the day off."

"I am fine now, Sir. Thank you," said John. "What is it that you need?"

Bill out his glasses on and pretended to read the folder in front of him. "I have a question on this report on our intelligence assets. Come here."

"Of course," replied John, who felt a little relieved that Bill might have really bought his excuse, despite his initial fears. John did as he was told, and he stopped just right in front of his desk.

"I am confused about the part about our assets overseas," said Bill.

"What about them, Sir? I thought they were pretty clear-"

John didn't manage to finish his sentence as a sharp, searing pain rippled his stomach apart. His abdomen burned, and he felt a rush of hot fluid flow through it. He looked down, and he saw his shirt stained in his blood. He looked at Bill, and he was holding a pistol with a built-in silencer.

His blood went cold. John knew his time was up.

"I knew where your loyalties lie, Podesta," said Bill with no hint of mercy in his voice. “And it’s not with me.

John knew his schtick was up, and there was no more reason to lie. “Damn right, Clinton,” he said, wincing and coughing.

“And do you know what I hated more than traitors?”

“What?” asked a defiant John.

“People who want to kill my wife,” Bill said. “You’re lucky I didn’t decide to kill your wife too.”

“Don’t you d-d-dare…”

“Of course, I won’t,” said Bill. “Your wife isn’t a traitor, unlike you.”

“You and Loiseau can go to hell,” a weakening John spat at Bill, his spit mixed with his blood. John’s spit landed on Bill’s shirt.

“Awww, you made my shirt dirty,” said Bill in mock outrage, “just as you made the floors of this office filthy.”

“You and Loiseau are fucking dictators,” heaved John, “and a couple of dicks.”

“I knew that for a long time,” replied Bill, “and I know you know why. And you still throw your loyalties to our colonizers. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kidnapped my wife out of prison.”

John’s eyes widened.

“H-h-how did y-y-y-ou…?”

“Since you’re going to die anyway, I might as well come clean,” said Bill. “I was the soldier you saw with Hillary when you decided to rescue her,” he said. “I might have succeeded in my plan if you didn’t interfere. Oh well. I should be thankful that you did manage to rescue my wife.”

John simply scowled at him.

“But,” he said, “you did that so you can kill her at a later time, and at your own volition. So yeah, fuck you, Podesta.”

John’s bleeding wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, and Bill could see that his face was slowly draining of color. He was getting impatient of this slow death process, so he decided to speed it up. He stood up, pointed at John’s chest and pulled the trigger a second time. John’s blood spurt all over and stained the stack of papers in his desk. Within seconds, John’s body fell on the floor, lifeless and hollow.

Bill hovered above John’s body and looked at his former aide-de-camp with disgust. He was certain that John’s death would stir fear among their ranks, and suspicion from the US government. Without a doubt, Hillary would hear about this too. He knew she would resent her for this. Maybe this would help her speed up her decision to really divorce him. He wished that she still wouldn’t, but if he was in Hillary’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to be married to himself either.

**_The Lobby, Crowne Plaza Times Square Manhattan, Manhattan, New York, November 17, 2009_ **

It was the first time Hillary had gone back to New York ever since she went to Chelsea’s apartment to apologize. It was also the first time she would see and talk to her daughter. Ever since, Chelsea had been ignoring her, despite her pleas to make contact with her. Hillary called Marc numerous times to ask him about her daughter. Mark was respectful enough not to pry into the details, but he respectfully insisted that Hillary keep her distance until Chelsea was ready. Hillary appreciated Marc’s level-headedness and was glad that Chelsea was marrying him. As her daughter requested, she did not bother her until one day, she received a text from Chelsea saying that she wanted to meet with her at the Crowne Plaza in Times Square.

Anxious about this meeting, Hillary arrived at the lobby thirty minutes before their agreed time. Starstruck hotels guests and staff swarmed her and ask for photos and handshakes. She should have expected that she would get this kind of reception. She thought she had faded back to her usual infamy that people would not bother to look at her twice if she was in the room. Apparently, she was so wrong. No less than twenty people had approached her and greeted her and thanked her for her bravery. She appreciated the love and support, but she needed to get away from the crowd. Her daughter was expecting her.

And she was right. When the adoring crowds left her, Hillary found Chelsea sitting on one of the couches in the lobby, half-amused and half-annoyed.

“I am so sorry,” Hillary apologized, sitting on the couch opposite Chelsea’s. “Were you waiting that long?”

“I came here about fifteen minutes ago, yeah,” she said.

“I’m really, really sorry. I couldn’t get out of the crowds…”

“It’s fine.” Chelsea’s stony face said otherwise. “Thanks for coming.”

“How have you been? How’s the pregnancy? The wedding prep?” Hillary had been dying to ask Chelsea these for ages, so she didn’t waste any time asking her daughter.

Chelsea simple shrugged. “The pregnancy’s okay. Baby’s healthy and I am still allowed to work. And as for the wedding, I just met with one of my prospective designers. She showed me her collection.”

“That’s amazing!” Hillary’s eyes lit up at the news of Chelsea’s healthy pregnancy and the wedding prep. “Who did you meet earlier?”

“Vera Wang,” Chelsea replied.

“Wow,” Hillary gasped. “This is nothing to sneeze at. Are you sure Marc won’t mind?”

“We’re splitting the bill,” Chelsea said, a little more forceful than she intended to. Hillary immediately noted her tone.

“I’m sorry,” Hillary mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Chelsea waived off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.” Hillary tried to tone down her excitement. “What did you call me here for, anyway?”

Chelsea sighed. “I have been thinking about you and Dad. I think it’s time you know what I really think about you.”

Hillary would be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting this. She held her breath, bracing for her daughter’s response.

“I am upset,” Chelsea said. “I am upset that you kept the most important thing about my life from me. I know America’s safety comes first, but I was hurt by the lack of effort from your part to let me know even just a little bit.”

Hillary looked at her daughter’s eyes. “I know, and I cannot apologize enough for that.”

“I know,” Chelsea looked away. “Do you love my father still?”

Hillary didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. With all my heart. Even more so than when I left him back in Rodinia years ago.”

“I see,” said Chelsea. “I just…I just couldn’t understand why you love him so despite what you know about him. He killed his people, tortured his enemies, suppressed his people’s voices…”

“I know what he is,” Hillary said firmly. “I have known his faults. He had committed crimes against humanity. Right now, I am uncertain if he even remembers the principles we stood for. But I know that I will never stop loving him. Even if we decided to end our marriage.”

Chelsea yanked her neck back to her Mother. “What do you mean…?”

“I know I’ll get in trouble for this but after you left us in Bermuda, I asked your father for a divorce.”

“What did he say?”

Hillary sighed. “He says he will think about it. I know we have nothing in common anymore, but it still hurt him to let me go. Given our positions, he knows it’s best for us to finally separate ways, but your father is a sentimental being. He doesn’t want to let me go.” Hillary decided to tell Chelsea just that. She didn’t have to know about the deal she and Bill made. At least, not yet.

“Alright,” said Chelsea.

“What are you thinking, Baby?”

Chelsea looked away again. “I don’t know what to feel. I am still processing all of this. It’s not easy to easily accept that your father is a modern-day Hitler. Whenever I see him on CNN, I flip the channels.”

“I understand,” said Hillary sadly. “I am sorry your father and I put you in this situation.”

“It’s fine,” Chelsea said. “But I don’t know what to think about you either. I felt like my best friend in the word betrayed my trust, and that’s not easy to forgive and forget.”

Chelsea’s word felt like a stab in Hillary’s heart, but she understood her daughter perfectly. “It’s alright. Take your time, Honey.”

“Thank you. I hope you wouldn’t mind if I won’t ask you to give me away at my wedding. Of course, you’re invited, but I’d like to walk in the aisle all by myself.”

Hillary took every ounce of her energy to keep her tears at bay. That was the most devastating thing she had ever heard.

“It’s alright,” Hillary lied. “It’s your special day. You do whatever makes you happy.”

“Thank you for understanding,” said Chelsea. “You went through all the trouble of getting here. The least I can do is feed you. Would you like to have lunch?”

Hillary smiled a little. Lunch. She liked that. “Of course.”

For the first time, Chelsea smiled too. “Alright. I’ll get the car. Can you wait for me at the front entrance?”

“Of course.”

“See you in a couple of minutes, Mom.”

“Sure.”

As soon as Chelsea left, Hillary felt her Blackberry vibrate. She opened her phone and saw that her Philippe Reinnes left her an email. The email had a subject “NYT BOMBSHELL.” Intrigued, Hillary opened the email and read:

> **_EXCLUSIVE: SECRET PENTAGON PAPERS POINT TO US INTERFERENCE IN RODINIAN WAR_ **
> 
> **_by Maggie Haberman_ **
> 
> _A throve of secret documents from the Department of Defense suggested that the United States manipulated the Rodinian civil war which resulted to the installation of General Desmond Loiseau as Supreme Leader._
> 
> _According to the documents reviewed by the Times, the US had spread conflict among the warring factions of communist and Western-allied Rodinians with the goal of spreading discord among the civilians and ultimately relying on the US for logistical support in exchange for political influence._
> 
> _The documents were supposedly kept by the Department of Defense from the eyes of Congressional investigators for years, mirroring the nature of the Pentagon Papers which detailed the failure of the United States in the war in Vietnam._
> 
> _The papers reviewed by the Times were only a small percentage of the actual report. It is unclear what the extent of the full report is_.

Hillary’s hands were numb when she finished reading the entire article. She knew that the report mentioned in the Times was the same report Bill wanted to read. Hillary knew NYT had barely scratched the surface, but she already felt sick to her stomach. She felt like she was going to faint.

“Mom!” Hillary heard Chelsea call from outside, sitting inside her sedan.

Hillary looked at her daughter, unsure how to tell her all about this.  

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delayed update :( I promise I'll write more often!


	40. Frustrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who patiently waited for the update!

**_The Oval Office, The White House, Washington, D.C., November 23, 2009_ **

Hillary barged into the Oval Office raging. The President and the rest of the National Security Council were stunned by her entrance. She slammed a copy of the New York Times on the Resolute Desk, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Why is it that the New York Times got to see that report before I did?" Hillary couldn't anymore restrain herself, pounding her fists on the Resolute Desk. "What else are you hiding from me? What else did America do to my Motherland? To my people?" Hillary, swallowed by her emotions, had forgotten that she was an American citizen too.

President Obama stood up and with a wave of his hand, the rest of the men left the Oval Office. He led Hillary towards the couch where they sat opposite each other. The President, ever a gentleman, offered his handkerchief to a now crying Hillary.

"I am so sorry that this had happened, Hillary," President Obama said, his words sincere. "We are still tracking down how this report had gone to the Times, but I can assure you that they will be reprimanded.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Hillary spat. “Why is it that you don’t trust me with that report? If this report is detrimental to national security, why am not aware of it? Is it because I am of Rodinian descent and you think I will turn against the United State because of what I might find out?”

“Of course not, Hillary. I know you will never ever betray the United States,” said President Obama in his calming voice. “You have shown us exactly that back in Rodinia a few months ago. You would rather die than betray the country that welcomed you and your daughter.”

“Exactly. So why is it that I am not allowed to read the report?!” Hillary insisted angrily. “You know why I am requesting that. You know the deal I made with my husband. Why can’t you let the divorce proceed? It is for everyone’s good if we separate once and for all!”

“I know that, Hillary,” said the President. “I have no doubt that your loyalty will remain with the United States regardless of whatever you read in that report. It’s just that…”

“Tell me,” she dared her boss to try.

The President sighed. “It’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt with what you are about to read. You have already been hurt personally by the escalating tensions of our two countries. As a friend, I do not want you to get hurt further.”

Hillary closed her eyes and more tears spilled. “No, Mr. President. The more you hide the report from me, the more I am hurt. Because you don’t trust that I can handle the information that was in it.”

“It’s not like that at all, Hillary,” President Obama implored her to see reason. “You have every right to see the document as every other Secretary of State before you did. It’s just that I need to assess the impact-”

“We have the same level of security clearance. I am a part of the National Security Council. I am the chief diplomat of this country,” Hillary interrupted the President. “I fail to see how disastrous it would be if I read the report.”

“I understand, Hillary,” President Obama tried to remain calm despite the challenge. “However, you are married to a hostile foreign leader. I want to make sure that he isn’t maneuvering you to his advantage. Or at least, on a foreign policy level. If he wanted to completely destroy your relationship with that report, I must say I will be heartbroken for you if that happens, but there is nothing that can prevent me from releasing it to you if that’s the case. I just need to ascertain Clinton’s intentions on the report.”

Hillary looked away, not wishing to concede that her boss’s concerns were reasonable. She wouldn’t let him have upper hand, no matter how childish she might have looked.

“You know the other outlets will try to piece the entire report,” she said. “The Post, Politico, CNN, NBC, the Wall Street Journal…everybody’s out for blood. Would you rather have me read the report from their pages when it can be spun in somebody else’s favor? Or will you just let me read it in its entirety, without the spins and the bias?”

President Obama sighed. “One week. Give me one week to sort this out. I promise you will receive an answer.”

Hillary was hurt by his vague answer. “Alright. But I will have to withdraw from Davos, then. I have to blindly deal with his problem I didn’t create.”

“I understand, Hillary,” replied the President. “Joe will go instead. You deserve a break, Hillary.”

If the President’s last words were meant as a suggestion for her to take a leave, she fucking wouldn’t. She wouldn’t go anywhere until she read that damn report.

“Thank you,” she said coldly. “I’ll see myself out.”

The two didn’t properly say goodbye. As Hillary walked out the door, President Obama looked at his chief diplomat with deep pity and regret. No cabinet official had to endure such an ordeal as she did. An American hero, suddenly caught in a political firestorm that was of his own doing. If he had been more aggressive. But then again, he was an analytical man. He needed to know that no one would get hurt by his decisions, or at least minimize the pain he would inflict.

He realized that he might have miscalculated, for he had hurt his Secretary of State more than anybody he had hurt in his life.

**_Ride N’ Dine Suites, Washington, D.C., November 30, 2009_ **

After a long drive from Pennsylvania, Lanny decided to settle in a cheap motel on the outskirts of Washington D.C., away from the political action but not too far. The location was perfect. The motel was surrounded by trees and the back of the motel led to the camping grounds. To his luck, when he checked if there was a vacancy, the receptionist happily told him that there was. Grinning, Lanny checked in and brought his things along with him.

When he was inside his motel, the dumped his duffel bag and backpack into his bed. He quickly rummaged through his backpack. Inside, he found his burner phone. He turned the phone one and dialed the number he memorized a few days ago.

The man from the other line quickly picked up his call.

“Lanny,” said Bill.

“Ah, Bill. Have you read the New York Times?”

“I certainly did,” said Bill from the other line. “You think the administration leaked it?”

“No,” replied Lanny. “My sources say they’re genuinely caught by surprise.”

“How sure are we on that?” asked Bill.

“Because the NYT source was an Armed Services staffer who leaked it to the reporter,” said Lanny.

“How did you know that?”

“I heard John, Bob Gates and Tom Donilon talking about it a few weeks ago. Caught them when I was listening to their conversation in Serbia,” said Lanny.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” Bill’s enraged voice rang through the receiver.

“I apologize,” said Lanny. “I didn’t think it would be published this soon, that’s why I didn’t tell you that.”

“Alright,” Bill decided to let Lanny go for his mistake. “That certainly was a surprise,” he said, referring to the publication of a portion of the report.

“What are you thinking now?” asked Lanny.

A sigh was heard on the other end of the line. “I sure hope Hillary read the report by now.”

Lanny rubbed his forehead, frustrated by his superior’s excessive care for the Secretary of State. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but this is not the best time to be mindful of your wife’s feelings.”

Bill’s face hardened. “It’s none of your business what I may or may not think,” he said with a venom in his voice.

“I apologize,” said Lanny, knowing that he went a little too much. “I just want you to see the opportunity here.”

Bill knew exactly what Lanny meant, but he refused to press further. So instead, it was Lanny who got there.

“Bill, listen to me,” Lanny said calmly, “this is the moment we have all been waiting for: for the United States be exposed for the atrocities she did to our people. We can finally demand the justice we have been craving for years. This is why we fight, Bill, and victory is at hand“

Bill knew all of that. Years of his hard work was finally paying off, but he wanted none of it anymore.

“Bill?” Lanny asked if Bill was still on the line.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been silent,” Lanny noted.

Bill sighed again. “I know. It feels surreal that we are near the end of our war. Victory is just within an arm’s reach. I never thought this day would come.”

“So why the silence?”

“I am just getting worried about Hillary. If the entirety of the report leaks, it is she who will take the fall. People will know that she has ties to me, and they question her loyalties. She will be utterly destroyed, Lanny. I cannot have that happen.”

“OH FUCK HILLARY!” Lanny couldn’t contain his frustration that he screamed at his superior. “Hillary didn’t give a damn shit about you until months ago! And still don’t because her loyalty lies with the United States! If she gave a damn about you, she should not have accepted that Secretary of State job!”

“DON’T SAY SHIT ABOUT MY WIFE!” Bill screamed from the other end. “YOU DON’T KNOW HER ANY MORE THAN I DO, SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH IF YOU WANTED TO LIVE!”

Lanny kept his silence, knowing that he would certainly be punished if he went on further.

“I apologize,” Lanny said quietly, but he never meant any word of it.

“Alright,” Bill said. “I want you to do everything to keep that report from leaking. Work your magic. Do everything you can to protect Hillary.”

“But-“

“Those are my orders, Lanny,” said Bill sternly.

Lanny closed his eyes and said, “Yes. I will make sure the remainder of the report remained hidden. I will do my best.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” said Bill, satisfied. “I’ll let you off with your surveillance work for a while. Others can do that for you while you keep that report from leaking.

“Of course,” every word of submission tasted bitter on Lanny’s tongue. “You have my word on this.”

“Good. Is there anything else?”

“None. I am good now.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Thank you.”

Lanny turned off the phone and threw it on the bed. His mind quickly formulated a plan to circumvent Bill’s orders. He would not let Bill get in the way of their goals. He needed to expose the contents of the report to the widest audience in American history.

If Hillary had to be hurt, so be it.


	41. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuuun...

**_The Secretary's Office, Harry S. Truman Building, Washington DC, January 20, 2010_ **

Hillary looked at the DC skyline over her office window. She was waiting for a package from the White House. After weeks of pressing the White House for it, and threats of her resignation, President Obama gave in. He finally gave Hillary permission to read the report that was the center of her ongoing saga. Unredacted and unabridged, the report was going to give Hillary the details of the full extent of US's participation in the Rodinian civil war, and why Loiseau and her husband were going after the US.

Convincing the President to let her read the report wasn't easy. After the President had promised her in November to let her know if he would allow her to see the report, he rescinded his promise after the political noise of the report died down. After that initial NYT report, no one had able to obtain other parts of the report. The lack of a follow-up eased the pressure on the White House to let other people, especially Congress, to see the report. Some small publications pursued the story but no one got near towards the real thing. By the time December came, the story had been lost in the news cycle.

With that, the President told Hillary that he needed more time to review the material, which prompted a "Fuck you" from Hillary when he told her of his decision. President Obama, ever so calm and collected, received the brunt of her anger. After that day, Hillary felt she could no longer serve as his Secretary of State because of the lack of trust between them, which was necessary for affairs of national security.

But President Obama appealed. He told her that his faith on her was unwavering, but he just needed time because Republicans are pulling all the stops to derail his healthcare bill. Hillary, of course, understood the President's position so she gave her a few more weeks. By then, 2009 turned to 2010. But the longer Hillary stayed on her job, the more miserable she became. She figured that it was time for her to go.

But when Hillary went to the White House to hand over her resignation, the President surprised her with the announcement of his decision: he would let her see the report in full. Hillary felt numb. She had been expecting this for quite some time now but the news dropped on her like a bomb. Instead of informing him of her resignation, she decided to remain quiet, until after she read the report.

And as promised, she would be allowed to see the report. Following protocol, the report would be stored in a secure laptop and she would read it in the SCIF installed in her office. She was not allowed to retain a copy of the report, so she would rely on her memory to store every detail found on that report.

Hillary watched the beautiful DC skyline. She loved the view of the city during winter. White snow covering every roof and every inch of pavement in the city. Water in lakes had frozen solid. Everything was covered in ice, but the political action in the city remained heated as ever.

It was six 'o clock when Huma knocked on her door announcing the arrival of the package from the White House **,** which was already waiting for her in the SCIF.

"This is it, huh, Hill?" said Huma as she and her boss walked towards the SCIF. "Are you nervous?"

Hillary managed to nod just barely. Huma understood.

"I wish you good luck, Hill," Huma said. "No matter what happens, working and almost dying with you had been the greatest honor of my life."

"Thank you, Huma," said Hillary, stopping right in front of the SCIF door. "I am grateful for your friendship."

"Hey, it's not that we're not going to be friends after this," Huma joked, "but I will miss you being my boss. You're the best one I ever had."

"Well, I am the only boss you ever had," Hillary giggled nervously, "but I am honored all the same. Thank you."

Huma smiled. "Alright. I won't hold you anymore. Good luck."

"Thanks."

A CIA employee who was manning the entrance of the SCIF searched her and collected her phone. When she was cleared, she immediately approached the table with a laptop in front of it.

Hillary sat and took a deep breath. This was it. Hillary felt like here entire journey from Rodinia to Washington DC revolved around this report. This report held her fate. Whatever its contents were would decide her future.

She focused her attention to the laptop and began to read the report.

Project Aldenkirk, it read in the cover page. According to the introduction, Project Aldenkirk was the name given by the US government on its operation to sway the Rodinian civil war. The civil war, which sparked in 1943 when communist Rodinia battled with Western-allied Rodinia over control of the government after the United States had liberated them from Germany. Communist Rodinia was in very much in favor of the German rule, and it was angry at the US for forcing the Germans out of their country.

Dispute turned to unrest, and the unrest turned into a full fledged civil war. So far into the report, Hillary had not seen anything that wasn't written in history books. She began to relax a little. Maybe this report would turn out to be a dud after all.

Hillary went on. The civil war raged on until Hillary's childhood, but she was too young to have memories of it. At some point, the Western-allied forces and the Communist faction decided to make a truce. This was news to Hillary. It is said that the truce was meant to make way for peace talks.

According to the report, the peace talks were successful. It was decided that Communist Rodinia and Western-allied Rodinia would unify under a single government, but with concessions from each side: the United States will not have any say or influence in the new government. At last, peace was at hand.

But the United States wasn't happy with this truce, and it did not want the deal to pursue, so they tried to stir chaos. During the ceasefire period, American solders, dressed as Communist forces, launched a stealth attack on a Western-allied base. They massacred hundreds of unknowing soldiers. Some were tortured, and some were thrown into the waterfalls. The US soldiers made sure nobody in the base was left alive.

The attack led the Western-allied forces to falsely accuse the Communists of tricking them, of which the latter vehemently denied. The US fed them with false intelligence saying that it was indeed the Communists who attacked them. The deal was off and a much bloodier war ensued. In the end, the Western allies won, with the help of the United States.

But the Western rule would not last long, because in a couple of years, Desmond Loiseau ascended into power via military junta and erased every footprint of the United States in Rodinia. And in 2004, he was succeeded by her equally Western-hating husband, Bill.

Hillary had only managed to read the executive summary, but her energy had already been sucked out of her. Her heart was bleeding. She was betrayed by the country she now called home. This was more than political. It was personal. She had fought for American values and principles thinking it mirrored her own, but all this time, it was the opposite. She felt like she was used and abused.

And Bill. Oh Bill. All this time, he had known this, and he was fighting for justice, despite how extreme his measures were. She would always chastise him for silencing his people, but for the first time, she fully understood his motivations and intentions. She knew why he had to insulate Rodinia from the influence of the United States. If she was in his shoes,she would do the same too, but not resorting to extreme measures like he did.

Hillary suddenly remembered their deal. After reading this report, her decision was clear as day. There was only thing left to do, and it involved marching straight to the White House. She had read enough and seen enough, even though there were 500 pages left in the report.

Even though she had not yet seen the names of her father and Bill's father in the list of Western-allied soldiers who were killed by the US.

_**The Oval Office, The White House, January 20, 2010** _

Despite the time, Hillary and President Obama remained in the Oval Office for a talk. The President had been expecting this, and he braced himself for the worst.

"I know why you're here," he said as he sat across Hillary. "Please, I want to hear."

"I should have done what I was supposed to do a few weeks ago," Hillary said, her energy completely drained out of her.

"And what's that?"

"I was supposed to hand over my resignation the day you told me you are considering letting me read the report," she replied. "I wanted to do so because I believe there is no trust between us. And after I read the report, I truly think there is no trust anymore."

"I am sorry, Hillary," said President Obama sadly. "I apologize on behalf of previous administrations and mine. I feel more responsible than any of my predecessors, because I chose to give you the toughest job there is."

"To be honest, I am quite surprised that you offered me the job of Secretary of State despite my past," she replied. "I was grateful for the opportunity to make a difference. And while I thought serving as America's chief diplomat was the greatest honor of my life, I no longer see it that way."

"I understand."

"I had become an instrument of injustice," she continued. "I do not wish to be as such anymore."

"I accept your resignation, Hillary. You deserve that from me," said the President. "Although I do have one request."

"Alright."

"I want you to formalize your resignation after the State of the Union," he said. "If you request that your resignation be made effective immediately, I will grant that. But please, just after the State of the Union."

Hillary understood the pressure on the President on his first State of the Union, so she silently nodded her head in agreement.

"I do have a request too," she said.

"Let me hear it," replied President Obama.

"I cannot, in good conscience, attend the State of the Union as your Secretary of State. I will skip the speech and give a press release that I am ill. The usual designated survivors will remain."

President Obama was disheartened by her request but he had no choice. "Of course."

"And don't worry," she added. "I'll have Philippe contact Jay Carney for the press release of my resignation. We'll tell the public that I am ill so as not to stir drama."

"I appreciate that, Hillary."

Hillary stood up, seeing there was nothing more to talk about. "I'll be heading out Mr. President."

"Alright. Good bye, Hillary," he said. "It's been an honor serving with you."

Hillary did not respond, knowing that she could not say the same thing for him.

**_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, January 22, 2010_ **

Lanny was back in his Pennsylvania home. He needed to be. The main difference between DC and Philly was that the former was such a bastion of liberals. Almost 90% of DC votes Democratic. Because of that, it had one of the strictest gun laws in the US. Lanny thought it would be cumbersome if he tried to buy a gun in DC so he went back home in Philly instead. There, there was no license nor background check required. There was even a state ban on firearm registries.

But still, Lanny was not taking chances. In order not to raise suspicion, he bought his handgun and his magazines from several shops in the city. He also bought a nice AR-15. When he assembled his guns at home, he was satisfied.

Lanny kept thinking about Bill's orders. He tried to rack his head if he, in any way, disobeyed his command. He thought he did was he was asked to do. After all, Bill only specifically asked him to stop the report from leaking at all costs. And thanks to him, the report didn't reach another media outlet.

Lanny grinned to himself. Bill only told him to stop the links. He didn't say he couldn't do other things too.

And either way, it wouldn't matter if Bill would decide to punish him. By then, it would be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another chapter written, which I will upload tomorrow. The next chapter will mark the end of Part III of this fic. Part IV is the endgame where we will settle everything.
> 
> *Icantwaittouploadthenextchapteromg*
> 
> A little sidenote: I did a little research and Hillary in fact did not attend the 2010 SOTU :)


	42. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale of Part III

**_United States Capitol, Washington DC, January 27, 2010_ **

The Capitol was abuzz for President Obama's first State of tehr Union. Every member of Congress was present, and so were the full Cabinet, with the exception of Housing Secretary Shaun Donovan, and of course, Hillary. Hillary's last minute press release announcing her absence caused a stir among the pundit class, with many of them noting that she was the first Secretary of State in decades to not attend this important event. Her absence, however, was just a blip in the news cycle, as everyone's attention returned to the very important speech. In here, the president was expected to tell Congress to expedite his healthcare bill. The fiasco from November about the NYT leak was totally forgotten, and nobody expected President Obama to bring that up.

Every member of Congress was expected to bring a guest to the State of the Union. Congressman Chaka Fattah, representing the second congressional district of Pennsylvania which covered Philadelphia, brought along a Rodinian refugee named Lanny Davis.

**_Hillary Rodham's Residence, Washington_ ** **_D.C._ ** **_, January 27, 2010_ **

Hillary had eaten her dinner earlier than usual. She had took the day off and spent the days making light calls with staffers and catching up on her books. She also had a call with Chelsea, who just got off from a dress fitting in New York. The wedding prep was going swimmingly well, despite the occasional headaches and mix-ups. Chelsea emailed her the planned menu for her wedding and asked her opinion about it. Hillary thought the menu with the halibut and seared steaks were great, so she voted in favor of it. But of course, the final decision lay on Chelsea and Marc.

Overall, Hillary's day had been light and relaxing. She needed this break from all the things that had happened over the past few days. She wanted to get out of government as soon as she could, but she made a promise to the President not to get out before the State of the Union. She had kept her promise, she has faith that the President will kept his, despite breaking his promise before.

Over the past few days, she had been contemplating what to do once she stepped down. She would make her exit, and then secretly give up her security clearance and contact Lanny to make arrangements to meet with Bill. She had made her decision. She would no go through with the divorce. With the job of Secretary of State off her shoulders, she would be free to do anything she desired. And as of that day, she no longer wished to serve the United States. She would run off to England or Germany to teach or work on a nonprofit, and hopefully she could see Bill once more. And maybe in October, they could renew their vows, just in time for their 35th anniversary. She knew Bill would like that. Just thinking about it made her smile.

Hillary sat on her couched and flipped the channel to NBC where a team of anchors were hosting a pre-speech coverage of the State of the Union. To be honest, she wan't really interested in what they had to say, because more often that not, they got things wrong. And once in a while, someone would bring up the topic of Hillary running for office or even challenging President Obama in 2012. She rolled her eyes. The President must be doing a great job that's why these pundits were so bored and they make-up unnecessary things to discuss, like her electoral prospects.

While waiting for the speech to start, Hillary pulled up her glasses and propped her book open. She could do without those unnecessary babbling.

**_Basement Storage, US Capitol, January 27, 2010_ **

In the deep underbelly of the Capitol lied the rooms and facilities that visitors could not see. Only staffers and members of Congress had access to it. That was why Lanny had to convince a staffer of Senator Arlen Specter to give him a tour and he drugged her to that he could steal the keys to the Senator's Hideout and use it to regroup. He had smuggled his weapons a few hours before by contacting a compatriot who was hired as a Capitol guard only last November. He and his accomplice stashed the guns in a storage room where the guard had the sole access to the key. Once Lanny was inside as a guest at the State of the Union, he started preparing for his attack.

Lanny studied the floor plans carefully. He checked the entry and exit points where he could freely pass. There were some hallways where security were stationed, but his hand gun, armed with a silencer, could do the trick. He could rely on his bullet-proof vext and extra-sharp reflexes to protect him from the shower of bullets that could come his way. Lanny vowed to himself that he will die only at the steps of the gallery.

**_Hillary Rodham's Residence, Washington_ ** **_D.C._ ** **_, January 27, 2010_ **

Finally, the pundits have stopped chattering as they fed live shots of President Obama entering the gallery in a standing ovation. Hillary refused to clap, but she acknowledged her boss with a nod. President Obama went up the rostrum with Vice President Biden and Speaker Pelosi behind him. When the applause had died down, the President began to speak.

Thirty minutes into the speech, President Obama was interrupted by scream. A man's voice, yelling "RELEASE THE REPORT! JUSTICE FOR RODINIA! THE US MURDERED OUR SOLDIERS!" dominated the gallery. For a split second, the TV shots showed President Obama looking surprised and confused before he was seen shot in the stomach and fell on to the floor. Horror-stricken Biden and Pelosi ducked under the rostrum while a spray of bullets hit in their direction. The non-stop sound of bullets being fired were heard for quite some time before the networks decided to cut away from the horrendous scene unfolding. For two minutes, the nation had witnessed a mass shooting on live TV.

Hillary sat on her couch, horrified and traumatized by the scene she just watched. This was 9/11 over again. She had no doubt that this was a terror attack. This was a full act of war against the United States.

She thought about the screams she heard before the mass shooting. She thought she recognized that voice. And with the message of the screams, she had no doubt that it was Lanny Davis. Rodinia definitely had a hand in this. Her mind quickly turned to Bill. Her heart pounded and she felt faint. Oh God. If he had a hand in this...

Hillary quickly reached for her phone. She dialled Chelsea's number. To her relief, Chelsea answered her phone quickly.

"Mom,are you okay?"

"I am fine, Baby. I'm at home. How about you?"

"I am alright. Just shaken by what I saw on TV. Reminds me of 9/11. This is so scary, Mom. I don't think I can sleep tonight."

"Neither can I, Sweetie. Neither can I," Hillary said, thankful that Chelsea was alive and in one piece. "We are going to get through this, okay?"

"Yeah. But I am still scared."

"We all are, and that's okay," she said. "Those who terrorize us want us to be scared, but there is more to us than fear, Honey. We survived 9/11. We will survive this."

"How can you say those thing at this time, Mom? You don't sound like you have an ounce of fear in you."

"Because I have witnessed the American exceptionalism, Honey," said Hillary, not missing out the irony in her statement. "I know America will bounce back. I just know it."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what the gunman was talking about? The report? Was it the same one that was leaked by the Times?"

Hillary fingered her shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I cannot tell you anything that is not in the public domain." She realized that Chelsea had no idea about the contents of the report yet.

Chelsea seemed satisfied by her mother's response. "Alright. I am just happy that you're safe."

"Thank you, dear. And I am happy that you're alright too. But I got to get off the phone. I expect some calls are going in my direction."

"Okay, Mom. Stay safe. And I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetheart."

Hillary ended the call feeling calmed and elated after hearing those three words from her daughter. She never thought she'd say that again after her tremendous mistake. She was glad that Chelsea was trying to forgive her. She wasn't quite there yet, but they had made significant progress.

Seconds later, Hillary's phone rang again. It was Janet Napolitano, the Secretary of Homeland Security.

"Hello, Janet. Are you alright?" asked Hillary.

"Yes, I am fine. I am shaken, but nevertheless unharmed," said Janet. "Listen, Hill, I have some bad news for you."

Hillary braced herself for the worst. "Let me hear it."

"The President is rushed to the hospital. He is in critical condition. And so are Biden, Hatch and Pelosi," said Janet. "You know what that means, Hillary." All of the people in the presidential line of succession before Hillary were down, and she was the highest ranking Cabinet official capable.

Hillary's face fell, draining all the color in it. "Oh no..."

"We need you to focus on the challenge ahead. We hope that this will only be temporary, Hill."

Hillary swallowed. "I have no choice, Janet. I have to."

"Secret Service agents will come to your home anytime soon. They'll bring you to a secure location," Janes said.

"Alright."

"And the Secret Service has asked the NYPD to secure your daughter and her fiancè too. They will be protected from now on until the agents see fit. The Secret Service agents will take over once they arrive in New York."

"I understand," Hillary breathed knowing that Chelsea will be protected.

"Do not leave your house, Hillary. The Secret Service will collect you. Then we will find a judge who can administer you the oath of office."

Hillary sighed. "Alright. I will wait."

"I have trust in you, Hill. We need you in these perilous times," said Janet.

"Thank you," Hillary replied. "I am going to need all of your support."

"You have it. We are only as strong as we are united," assured Janet. "I'll get off the phone now. I need to check the situation inside the Capitol."

"Alright. Stay safe, Janet."

"Thank you. And you too. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Hillary ran off to her bed and quickly gathered her essential things: her wallet, her binders from State and her handgun. She loaded her gun and holstered in her waist. She had always known how to fire a gun, but didn't think the day she would need that skill would come. Of course, all that changed seven months ago in Rodinia. She had also changed her clothes. She couldn't let herself be taken to the secure location in her pajamas.

She heard the doorbell ring. She scurried downstairs and took a peek at the peephole before opening the door. She saw several men in suits with headpieces. She let out a breath of relief. It was the Secret Service agents. She opened the door to let them in.

An officer raised his badge. "Agent Mark Schilling from the Secret Service. With me are Agent Corey Hewitt and Agent Peter Guerrero." The other two officers behind Schilling also showed their badges. "We are here to secure you, Madam Secretary. I believe Secretary Napolitano has informed you of the arrangements?"

"Yes," Hillary nodded. "I have been informed."

"Are you ready to go, Ma'am?" asked Schilling.

"Yes," Hillary showed them her duffel bag and flashed the gun in her holster. The agents seemed satisfied.

"Good idea about that gun, Ma'am. We'll provide you with a bullet-proof vest once we are inside the van."

"Much appreciated," Hillary said. "Shall we go?"

The agents nodded. Hillary locked her house and switched the lights off. As she walked towards the van, a realization hit her.

She had just broken the highest and hardest glass ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of Part III. Part IV is full on Bill v. Hillary. Mwahahahahahahaha.


	43. Time Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week had been explosive, for a lack of a better pun. :/
> 
> And Happy Birthday to our dear Hillary!

_**Undisclosed Location, Virginia, January 27, 2010** _

The Secret Service agents drove Hillary to a rest house in Virginia, in the middle of the woods. The trip was approximately thirty minutes. Hillary figured that their location was somewhere in Alexandria. When the van carrying her stopped, the agents immediate pulled her out and escorted her inside the rest house. Inside were her top aides at State, waiting: Jim, Huma and Philippe. They all expressed relief when they saw their boss unharmed.

"Oh Hillary!” exclaimed Jim.

“Thank God,” said Philippe.

"You’re okay!” added Huma.

“Oh you guys,” Hillary pulled them all into a big hug, letting her tears fall. She was grateful that they were all alive. They had already survived a near-death ordeal before. She didn’t want it to happen to them again.

“I am so glad you’re alive Hill,” said Philippe. "Something to be thankful for in these dark times."

"So am I," she replied. "It could have been us in the gallery."

"Thank God you chose the right time to get sick," quipped Jim, trying to lighten the mood. He knew very well his boss's planned resignation and press release leading to the State of the Union.

"Have you heard from anyone outside of State?" asked Hillary.

"Yes," said Huma. "Secretary Donovan immediately contacted me. He was to be brought to another safehouse too," said Huma. "He said that the White House staff and all the deputy secretaries will meet you tonight. Secretaries who are unharmed will receive stress debriefing and immediately join us."

Hillary nodded. "Give me Bob Mueller and Jim Comey as soon as you can. And Leon Panetta too."

"You got it, Hill," Huma was already typing their numbers on her phone.

She turned to Jim. "Jim, I am going to need your help more than ever. I am sure State will be in your good hands."

"Thank your for your trust, Hill," said Jim. "I won't let you and America down."

Moments later, there was a knock on the door. A man, surrounded by Secret Service, emerged from the doorway. He had a duffel bag of his own. This man exuded wisdom despite his youth. His hair was slightly graying and his face was kind and full of light. Behind the man was a wonan who Hillary recognized as the assistant White House photographer.

"Madam Secretary," the man extended his hand to Hillary, and she shook it. "My name is Judge Merrick Garland. I am here to administer you the oath of office."

"Oh God," Hillary groaned. She was slowly beginning to feel the weight of the world on her shoulder. Hopefully, the President and the others would recover. They had to, for the sake of the nation.

Judge Garland extracted his robes from his bag and pulled them over his shirt. He took out the small Bible from the same bag and two sheets of paper which contained the oath of office, one for him and one for Hillary. He adjusted his glasses as handed Hillary the Bible. She then gave the Bible to Huma, Jim and Philippe.

"Alright, Madam Secretary," said Judge Garland. "Please raise your right hand and place your left hand over the Bible."

Hillary did as she was told, her heart pounding like it never had before. Huma, Jim and Philippe looked at their boss with awe and apprehension.

"Repeat after me, please," said Judge Garland. "I, state your name..."

"I, Hillary Diane Rodham..."

"...do solemnly swear..."

"...do solemnly swear..."

"...that I will faithfully execute..."

"...that I will faithfully execute..."

"...the Office of President of the United States..."

"...the Office of President of the United States..."

"...and will to the best of my Ability..."

"...and will to the best of my Ability..."

"...preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.

"...preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.

"So help me God."

"So help me God."

When Hillary said those last four words, the earth had shifted underneath her feet. She felt like it was no longer the same world she had lived in. It felt surreal, even for just a couple of seconds, to be the most powerful  person in the world. It was excilirating, but this feeling was coupled by fear too. She wasn't sure if she was the best person to lead this country forward, especially after an attack that shook the nation to its core.

"It is done, Madam Secretary," said Judge Garland. "And good luck. We're all depending on you now."

Hillary thanked Garland before giving Huma, Jim and Philippe a hug.

"My commander-in-chief," said Huma with pride in her voice. "Make us proud, Hillary."

"My life's honor is serving with you," said Philippe. "We're all in this together."

"We'll be by your side no matter what," added Jim.  

"Thank you, everyone," said Hillary, overwhelmed by the support that she had been receiving but the national security concerns weighed more heavily in her mind. "Please, contact Janet or anyone in Homeland Security. Any luck with Mueller or Comey?"

"Comey came through," said Huma, always on top of things.

"The Secret Service said this house is equipped with a secure communication line at the basement. Comey's at the FBI HQ. We can make contact with him there.

"Good work," Hillary praised Huma. The latter had stepped up to act as her chief of staff and Hillary couldn't be more thankful that she did. "Jim?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Jim.

"What about Panetta?"

"He's at the White House. He'll be with us soon," said Jim.

"Alright. And make sure we execute our contingency measures at State."

"Got it."

"Hillary?" Huma called.

"What is it?"

"Bad news. Orrin Hatch's gone."

The flurry of activity in the room suddenly vanished. They had dealt with a serious blow, and everybody needed some time to recover.

"That can't be helped now," said Hillary, trying to push the team on. "We'll deal with him as more information comes through. Philippe?"

"Yes, Hill. I'm here," said her spokesman.

"Have you contacted Jay Carney yet? We need to update the people what's going on."

"I have", said Philippe. "He says the FBI will have e briefing at midnight for the developments, and then you can address the nation in the morning. "

Hillary sighed deeply. "I have to do this, don't I?"

"The nation needs you now, Hillary. They look up to you to lead us in these perilous times."

She maintained her gaze at a distance. "Alright. Please prepare a draft of my speech. We'll edit it once more information becomes available."

"Okay. On it," said Philippe.

Hillary went to the basement and found the secure communication line. There was a computer and a giant screen TV and a telephone line for her to use. She turned on the TV to CNN to gauge the situation.

"Hillary?" said Huma from upstairs.

"I'm here," Hillary responded.

"We got Comey. He's going to contact you now."

"Alright."

Hillary opened the computer and suddenly, the images from CNN was cut away into the face of the FBI deputy director.

"Good evening, Madam Secretary," said Comey.

"Good evening, Mr. Comey," said Hillary. "What do you have to report?"

"We secured the gunman, Ma'am. He's in surgery but we think he can survive."

"Have you ID'd him?" asked Hillary sharply.

"Yes, Ma'am. His name is Lanny Davis, a Rodinian refugee who's the guest of Congressman Chaka Fattah for the State of the Union."

Hillary's frown deepened and her pulse quickened.

"A quick check told us he has deep ties with Bill Clinton himself," said Comey. Hillary tried to look surprised in front of the FBI director. "He had records of gun purchases in Pennsylvania."

"I need you to further validate if Davis worked on his own or with the assistance of the Rodinian government," said Hillary, wishing that it was the former.

"Understood, Madam Secretary" said Comey. "Wait..."

"Yes?"

Comey looked troubled. He was reading something from his screen. "I believe we have a development, Ma'am."

"What is it?" Hillary hoped that it was a good one.

"Biden's gone, Ma'am."

A lump formed on her throat, and she couldn't swallow it down.

"This is not good," she said.

"I know, Madam Secretary" replied Comey. "But President Obama is still hanging there. He can still recover."

"He better do," remarked Hillary in jest. "I won't hold you much longer. Keep in touch for further developments."

"Of course. Goodbye, Madam Secretary,"

"Goodbye, Mr. Comey."

As Comey signed off, Hillary pressed the side of her hands to her lips and offered a single prayer. Pelosi and the President were still alive. She only needed one to survive.

_Please, please, please..._

_**Underground Base, Undisclosed Location, Rodinia, January 28,2009** _

Bill washed the blood off his hands with water. He was inside the men's room, the only place in the underground bunker that wasn't stained with blood. He looked at himself, noticing the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles. He looked panicked and fear-stricken.He wasn't sure what drove him to kill every single one of this man and guards in that secret underground base.  

God, Hillary...his wife. His wife was now the fucking President of the United States. And it was all because of Lanny. Had he known what Lanny was planning, he would have done everything to keep it from happening. Even kill him.

Now that the damage was done, there was no way the US would think that he had no hand in this. He wasn't even sure if Hillary would believe it even if he said so himself. After all, it was he who asked her to read the report. And now, it was the same report which sparked Lanny's attack. It's not hard to draw a connection there, and Hillary was too smart not to.

Bill wiped his face and left the men's room. Pools of blood stained the hallway. Any minute now, someone would surely find out that no one was answering any communication to this base. He needed a way out.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed ever rifle and weapon he could find. He quickly got out of the base and rode the military jeep that was parked outside. He turned on the engine and drove away as fast as the jeep could carry him.

__**East Room, The White House, January 28, 2009** _ _

Hillary settled at the holding room as a thick crowd of cameramen gathered inside the East Room for her address to the nation. The last few hours had been riveting for the entire nation, even more so for Hillary, who had been America's commander-in-chief for twelve hours now. She had barely gotten any sleep, and the moment she woke up. She had taken a quick shower at the White House and immediately immersed herself into the speech Philippe had prepared for her. She had revised the speech to tailor to her grief and anger over the events that changed the course of American history. Once she felt comfortable, she gave the go signal to Philippe to let the reporters in the East Room.

Hillary was reading her speech when Huma interrupted her.

"Hill?"

"Yeah?" said Hillary, her exhaustion evident in her voice.

"I have Chelsea on your phone. Want to take it?"

Hillary nodded fervently. She needed nothing more than the voice of her daughter. She took the phone from Huma and placed it on her ear.

"Hello?" Hillary said.

"Mom," said Chelsea, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I am tired, but I am okay. Where are you now?"

"I'm boarding a chartered flight to DC. Secret Service says they can't risk me staying in New York," Chelsea replied.

"I am not comfortable with you staying in New York either. It's better you stay in DC with me until the dust settles." As Hillary sat, her eyes darted towards the TV screen showing CNN. The chyron said BREAKING NEWS: PELOSI SUCCUMBS TO INJURY FROM CAPITOL MASS SHOOTING. The news made Hillary's blood chill and her stomach churn, but she tried to remain calm in front of her daughter.

"It's no fun, but I understand. These are dangerous times," replied the younger Rodham.

"I know," said Hillary, the news of Pelosi's death still hammering her brain. "And I'd rather have you here with me."

"I know, Mom. I am upset that all of this is happening. I know I am supposed to think about how you and Dad figure out in my life but I couldn't help but think that somehow, Dad's involved in this."

"It's too soon to tell," said Hillary, though she would never let her daughter know that she was thinking the same. "Let the FBI do their job. You'll know when they find out anything."

"This is why it's not easy for me to trust my Father," remarked Chelsea. "Most fathers do not commit acts of terror. Why should mine do such things?"

"I understand your dilemma, Baby. And I won't push you to decide now," comforted Hillary.

"Thanks," said Chelsea. "While I feel conflicted about my father, I am very proud of my mother. The leader of the free world. At least in an acting capacity. I know you're the best thing that had happened to America."

Chelsea's words made Hillary's heart burst. She would cry if she wasn't one giant ball of an emotional mess. "Thank you, Sweetie. You don't know how much that means to me."

"That's the least I could say," said Chelsea. "It looks like I'm keeping you from something. I'll see you later."

"Take care. Have a safe flight."

The phone call with Chelsea was more soothing than Hillary had expected. Maybe it was a mixture of her relief that her daughter was safe and happiness over forgiveness that brought respite to her. Chelsea's words were the strength she needed to face the world and to remain strong for a nation that looked up to her now. Energized by the phone call, Hillary stood up and walked out of the holding room.

But before she could leave, she bumped into Jim, wearing a grim facial expression.

"What is it, Jim?" Hillary asked. Jim looked like he was going to get sick.

"Bad news," he said.

Hillary was getting used to bad news now that she felt immune to them. "What is it?"

"President Obama's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Comey address Hillary as Madam Secretary even though she already took her oath as deference to Obama who was still alive by then :)


	44. Survivor's Guilt

**_The Oval Office_**  
**_The White House_**  
**_January 3_** _ **0**_ ** _, 2010_**

Hillary brought her most sober face on as the doors of the Oval Office opened, and a distraught Michelle Obama entered. The newly-widowed First Lady looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep, though she remained a vision of grace and elegance. Michelle could  barely hold her tears as she approached Hillary and sought refuge in the latter's arms. Hillary too could barely hold it together. She knew what it felt like to lose the love of her life - or at least she thought her love was lost. But Michelle's fate was much worse. There was no doubt that President Obama was gone, and Michelle was left all alone too early.

"There, there, Michelle," said Hillary, rubbing the First Lady's back. "Cry, Honey. You deserve to."

Michelle couldn't speak. Instead, she was sobbing silently on Hillary's shoulder.

"Nothing comes close to the pain of losing your love. But there are other people who love you too, Michelle. Your daughters, your mother, your family, your friends and supporters," Hillary consoled, "and me too. You lost a husband, I lost a dear friend. We mourn his passing together."

Michelle composed herself. "Thank you, Hillary. Your words mean a lot to me. I feel like nobody could understand me better than you. You had a more terrible experience than I did because you had were pregnant and all alone, but you still made sure that I didn't go through that same thing, and for that I am very grateful."

"You're welcome, dear, and listen to me," Hillary pressed her hands onto Michelle's shoulders, "I promise to make sure Barack didn't die in vain. I want you to know that we will catch who planned and executed this and we will bring them to justice. For you and all the people who lost their loved ones."

"Thank you, Hillary," said a much more composed Michelle. "I know you'll be a great President. Barack has always told me how much he believed in you. He said that your loyalty to the country and incorruptibility are beyond compare."

"I am touched and honored that he said that," Hillary pressed her hand to her heart. "Thank you."

Michelle left the Oval after that short meeting, and as the former First Lady left, a guilty feeling began to sunk in her stomach. Hillary watched the woman lose her husband. And while Hillary experienced what Michelle had been going through, the fact of the matter was her husband was alive, and he may have a hand in killing Michelle's.

Hillary sat behind the Resolute Desk and thought about Bill. Based on initial intelligence assessment, it was likely that Bill had ordered it. And he had the motive for it too. Was this why he had brought up the report in their divorce deal? Because he would soon find a way to make the report public and he wanted her in on the report before everybody did? Or is it because Bill wanted to trick her all along?

Either way, the thought of Bill lying to her like that felt like a stab in her heart. She didn't think Bill would do anything to hurt her anymore, especially how tenderly he touched her, how lovingly he whispered in her ear, how emotional he was when they made love in Bermuda. If all of these were just a farce, Hillary didn't want to think.

A phone ring snapped Hillary out from her deep thoughts.

"Hello?" She answered..

"Madam President," her receptionist said, "the chief of staff of Director Mueller called. He says that the Capitol shooter Lanny Davis is already awake from surgery and has been admitted out of the ICU."

Hillary was thankful that Lanny survived, but not because he cared for the man. "That's good news, thank you. Is there anything else he said?"

"Oh yes, Ma'am. He said that if you wish to see Mr. Davis then, then the FBI can arrange it."

Of course, there was only one response Hillary could give.

"Get it done."

_**Walter Reed Medical Center**_  
_**_**_**Bethesda**_**_**_ _ ** _ **,**_**_ _ ** _ ** ** _Maryland_****_**_  
_**_**_****_January_****_**_**_ _ **31, 2010**_

In the wee hours of the morning, Hillary's unmarked van had slipped inside the hospital premises. The FBI had secured Lanny's health and Hillary's safety first before allowing this visit. Under normal circumstances, nobody would have allowed the President of the United States to come into close contact with a terror suspect, but since Hillary was no ordinary president, and Lanny was no ordinary terror suspect, the FBI relented. However, they only made arrangements to have Hillary's aides and senior law enforcement officials listen into the conversation.

Hillary was strategically admitted to the hospital so that she would avoid detection. Nobody in the administration wanted this to leak. She was escorted to the fourth floor, where the maximum security suite was located.

When she was inside, a surprised and flustered Lanny met her. Lanny pressed the button on his side so that his bed folded into a sitting position.

"I thought I'd be meeting the judge or something," Lanny said. "They said it was someone important. They woke up in the middle of my sleep."

"Well, they aren't wrong, and I am sorry to disturb your rest," Hillary said. "How's your health?"

"I am recovering well, thank you," he replied.

"I am glad that you are. But forgive me if I say that I don't mean it personally. I need you more alive than dead," said Hillary.

"I know you do. Frankly, your husband too," Lanny replied.

"I know that. He still has some business with me."

Lanny licked his lips. "So, have you read the report?"

Hillary remembered what Mueller and Comey had told her. "It's privileged."

"Being coy, I see. But something told me that you had already read it."

Hillary refused to take the bait. "You don't get to dictate the rules here, Lanny. Because of you, I am now in charge. Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I never saw that coming," he admitted. "I thought you'd be dead. I didn't know you'd be sick. I guess the flu saved you."

"Lucky flu indeed," Hillary said, her loathing for Lanny rising with each second. "So, I believe there is no way you'd act without Bill's blessing."

Lanny shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Did you?"

"Does it matter if Bill ordered it or not? Either way, Obama is dead and people are going to find out about the report."

"It matters," she said, "because unlike Rodinia, the United States is a nation of laws, and we do not lock people up just because we do not like them."

"Keep guessing then. I'd never tell you or any-"

A sharp crack broke the silence inside Lanny's suite, followed by Lanny's moans of pain. Hillary's handprint remained visible on Lanny's face. Her slap was so forceful, Lanny twisted his body and hurt his broken ribs.

"Owwwww," moaned Lanny. "You bitch."

"That's the least that you deserve," Hillary replied, her voice cracking. "You destroyed so many lives. You terrorized this nation. You threatened to break out a war. All to seek revenge."

Lanny wasn't fazed, and it infuriated Hillary.

"Over the years, I have worked hard to forge peace between the United States and Rodinia," said Hillary, surprising herself that she would blurt out her personal frustrations, but he pressed on. "I worked so hard for that pipe dream, and it all collapsed overnight, because of you."

He looked at Hillary with disbelief. He didn't think she was being sincere.

"I was so close to making my family whole again, and now you ruined it."

Lanny immediately caught what she just said. "So, you have read it, and you are planning to reunite with your husband, aren't you?"

Hillary wanted to kick herself for that slip, but she tried to snatch the upper hand from Lanny. "None of your business. I do not have to tell anything to you."

"I caught what you said, Hillary. I am not dumb," he said. "You read the report, and still, you accepted the Presidency when it was handed over to you."

Lanny's words felt like a punch in the gut, but she maintained her façade.

"How can you lead a nation that killed many of your people, Hillary? Can your conscience handle it, if you even have one?"

Hillary simply refused to answer that question, mainly because she didn't know the answer to that herself. "I am not beholden to you. I never killed anyone. You did."

"No you didn't. But you might as well have."

Another sound of a crack broke inside the room, and this time, Hillary was fleeing the suite, fighting to keep her tears from falling.


	45. Disobedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a rough and busy few weeks. I have finished submitting all my papers for my migration to Australia so hopefully, the next few weeks won't be as hectic. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter!

**_The Oval Office_**  
**_The_** ** _White House_**  
**_F_** ** _ebruary_** ** _10, 2010_**

Hillary's first major act as President was to order the investigation into the mass shooting in Capitol Hill, which killed her predecessor, President Obama, and more civilians and politicians. The US was still in shock in what the intelligence community described as an act of terror. Whether it was state-sponsored or not, nobody outside the intelligence community had yet to know, and Hillary would be the first one outside the IC to know.

She had just arrived back to her office after meeting with several families of those killed in the Capitol Hill shooting. As President, it was not only her duty to protect the homeland, but also to console its citizens. The consoler-in-chief. She comforted the grieving families and promised them that the US would bring their loved ones' killers to justice. Unbeknownst to the grieving relatives, her guilt for having survived the assassination, when she herself could have been in the room if not for her  planned secret boycott of the State of the Union, only intensified as she heard more and more of their grief.

And to add to that, her husband may have ordered their relatives to be killed.

And she was about to find out if that was true in a short while.

In the midst of her contemplation, Hillary heard a soft buzzing sound from the intercom. Her receptionist had announced that the entire national security team was waiting for her in the Situation Room, ready to give her the first full formal briefing of the US's assessment of the terror attack.

Hillary's walk to the Situation Room had been agonizing. She was dreading what she might hear from the intelligence chiefs. Hillary's head was quick to note that the terror attack was Bill's doing, but her heart was screaming otherwise. No. Bill said he loved her, more than he ever had before. If he loved her so much, why would he put her in this position? Why would he have to hurt her people?

When the doors to the Situation Room were opened, the men inside stood up to their Commander-in-Chief.

"Madam President," the men murmured.

Everyone from the current National Security Council had been attendance, with the exception of President Obama, Vice President Biden, and Attorney General Eric Holder, who were all killed in the Capitol Hill shooting. They were replaced by Hillary, Governor Tim Kaine, Hillary's appointed Vice President, and Deputy Attorney General David Ogden respectively. Obama's Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, along with Hillary's Chief of Staff, Huma, were also there.

"Everyone, please sit," Hillary motioned everyone to take their seats as she took her own, feeling her dread intensify. "Let's get this started." She opened the briefing book in front of her.

"Right," Dennis Blair, the Director of National Intelligence, stood up. "We are gathered here today to update the President and the rest of the National Security Council about the findings of the intelligence community relating to the terror attack in Capitol Hill."

Hillary nodded, keeping her poker face to mask her pounding heart.

"Now", said Blair, "as we have previously assessed, this act falls under what we defined as an act of terror. The only question remains is whether or not this was state-sponsored."

Hillary was as the edge of her seat, trying to keep her heart in check.

"The Intelligence Community assesses, with high confidence, that this was sanctioned by the Rodinian government," said Blair. His words were enough to shatter Hillary's world.

"What are your sources?" Hillary asked sharply. Bob Gates, who had been secretly monitoring her for years, took this as Hillary's act of defiance to the IC's assessment.

"We don't have direct evidence," said Blair. "You may refer to page fifty two of your briefing books for more details. But in a nutshell, Lanny Davis is close to Clinton. I believe Madam President, you yourself are aware of that fact."

Hillary was sure Blair meant it as a jab at her.

"Furthermore, there is no reason for the IC to believe that Lanny Davis would act on his own. As recently discovered, he had worked directly under Clinton's orders for years. It is safe to say that Clinton ordered this attack himself."

Hillary maintained her calm demeanor, despite the obvious tension in the room. "I would not dispute what you have just said, Ms. Blair. I am just trying to be careful with our assessments. I believe we got it all wrong in Iraq," said Hillary, and Blair's face soured a bit. Hillary felt triumphantly when he did so.

"I understand," Blair tried to keep his sour face to himself. "But our colleagues from other countries agree with our assessment."

"Dennis is correct," said Leon Panetta, the CIA chief. "The consensus is that Clinton himself ordered the attack, despite the lack of direct evidence. However, circumstantial evidence and previous behaviors strongly support our conclusion."

"I see. I simply want the IC to leave no stones unturned. We cannot have another Iraq," said Hillary. Her words left the room stunned. She was a strong proponent for Iraq, and she had not backed down even when the intelligence was found to be faulty. The people in the room thought she would be their ally, a more friendly voice than President Obama, but they were wrong.

"I understand that you are being cautious this time, Madam President," Bob Gates suddenly interjected. "I trust that your personal views on Clinton do not affect your decision-making."

Hillary felt her blood boil. She knew it was a direct shot at her, and a challenge to her capacity to make decisions on the national security of the United States. Hillary had never really known who had been spying on her from the US government, but based on that last comment, she believed that Bob Gates was one of them. And she felt betrayed because he was one of her friends.

She wasn't going to let Bob Gates' comment pass.

"I know what you are saying, Gates," said Hillary. "However, we cannot afford more of our men to battle a fake war from false pretenses."

Bob Gates' face soured. The term "fake war" was particularly sensitive to him as he was a major proponent of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Bob, his face flushed, cleared his throat and composed himself. "I respect what the Commander in Chief thinks," he said through gritted teeth. "As military advisor, I recommend military action against Rodinia."

Hillary pursed her lips. "Jim?"

Jim, her deputy who was now acting Secretary of State, spoke up. "I recommend pulling sanctions. The heaviest sanctions we can bring."

"Rodinia won't budge even if we left their people starving," negated Bob Gates.

"Then why not take down the leadership and support dissidents? Like what we are doing with Assad?" asked Hillary.

"This could take years. And it might even fail, Hillary," replied Bob, and Hillary flinched at the mention of her name. She felt that Bob deliberately chose to address her as such rather than by her current title. "The American people want to see justice done."

Hillary didn't like his condescending tone. "There is no need to remind me of that, thank you very much. But I would like to return the favor and remind you that we are currently spending trillions of dollars in Iraq and Afghanistan. We don't need another one."

The room was left shocked by her words. The hawkish Hillary they knew was gone and was replaced by this dovish woman who looked like Hillary. Her colleagues were left scratching their heads.

She spoke in the midst of their confusion.

"Let me be clear: It is one thing to punish Clinton for his crimes, but it is another to kill millions of innocent civilians in our quest for justice. They are not collateral damage to our goals. We are Americans. We can figure out a way to bring my husband and his lackeys to justice."

The room remained silent, clearly getting the memo that Hillary would not accept a war against the Rodinians. Bob Gates was just especially furious, and his feelings were the least of her worries right now.

Finally, Blair spoke again.

"If we are going to bring Clinton to justice," he said, unsure, then we should hear about Clinton's whereabouts."

Hillary's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Jim sighed. "What I mean is that we have reason to believe that Clinton is missing, despite the the conventional wisdom that he remains in Rodinia. We think that the Rodinians themselves don't even know where he is."

Hillary's heart quickened. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"We received intelligence from our own sources that on the night of the Capitol Hill shooting, there was a mass murder inside the facility where Clinton was supposed to have been. It's possible that Clinton may have escaped the attack. But one of their jeepneys had gone missing."

"One missing jeepney doesn't imply he's gone," Hillary pointed out. "It may have been the getaway of the murderer."

"Well, the thing is, we intercepted Russia saying "when Clinton returns." We put two and two together so..."

Hillary shook her head. "That isn't definitive. As you said so yourself. He has been gone for quite sometime before. This proves nothing. Unless you have concrete intel that Clinton is elsewhere, we can't rely on this." Inside, Hillary was joyful was Bill was out of the way, but she was also worried about his safety.

Blair looked as if he was smacked on the face. "I understand," he said.

"I want developments on this on our next briefing," Hillary said. "Anything else?"

The men didn't respond, and Hillary took it as there was nothing more to be discussed.

"Alright. Meeting is adjourned," she said.

The men shuffled organize their things and carry their briefing books. As they slowly piled away, there was one who wasn't budging.

"Bob," she said. "What can I do for you?"

Bob put his hands in his pockets and approached her. "Clinton has to go down."

Hillary didn't like what she heard, but she couldn't dispute that. "Right. He should."

"Then don't get out of our way," Bob said menacingly.

Hillary was infuriated by Bob's threat, but she wasn't the one to back down so easily. "You mean you want to start a war unimpeded?"

"I know what you are doing. You want to protect your husband. You regained your affections for him and now you are shielding him from justice."

"I do not," Hillary tried to say with a straight face, because part of Bob's accusation was true. "Bill will receive what he deserves."

"I find it hard to believe that," replied Bob. "I know you, Hillary. You have loved him even you say you didn't-"

"Because you have been spying on me for years," Hillary finished for him, making Bob fluster. "May I remind you that spying on American citizens is against the law, Mr. Gates?"

Bob fidgeted for being get caught. He couldn't dispute it or justify what he did. It was enough to make him back off...for now. He grudgingly left the Situation Room, but as he was at the doorway, he turned around to give Hillary a last piece of his mind.

"Always remember," he warned, "you will be out of office the moment the public finds out you had sex with your son of a bitch of a husband."

And without another word, he left.

Hillary breathed easier after shaking Bob Gates off. It was over...for now. But she made a mental note to herself not to underestimate Bob. His refusal to call him by her title was a proof that he thought she was illegitimate. Whether he wanted the presidency for himself, she did not know. But Hillary was a cautious player. She knew how to keep her friends close and her enemies closer.

As she stepped out of the Situation Room and back to the Oval Office, she couldn't help but think about Bill. Was he really missing? If he really did what they say they did, why?

Hillary clutched her heart and held on to that last ray of hope that Bill would surrender.


	46. State of the Union

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me two months to update :( I promise I won't procrastinate anymore :((((((
> 
> Erratum: I had originally typed that it was 2009. It's actually 2010. Hahahaha. I am getting rusty. Sorry!

_**Undisclosed Location**_  
_**Serbia**_  
_**March 31, 2010**_  
   
He entered the local pub without attracting a glance from any of the patrons. After all, people from all walks of life have entered this pub outside the city limits. Many of the pub's patrons were workers from the nearby factory, relaxing after a long day's work. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of interest in him, and so far, nobody had given him a damn. Deciding that he was safe, he approached that and pulled the stool.  
  
The bearded man who was the bartended gave him an examining look, a look that one usually gives when one is trying to recognize a face. He pretended to have a headache as he read the menu. To his relief, the bartender decided that he must be imagining and took his order.  
  
He gingerly massaged his chin, which was now covered in a mixture of gray and white hair. His snow white, crisp hair was now shriveled and long, spinning in every direction. Weeks of hiding and avoiding detection did not do favors on his health and appearance, but he was no stranger to it. He had faced worse when he was in prison.  
  
The bartender switched the TV on, and he was immediately treated to a news report from CNN. The anchor was reporting about the recently concluded State of the Union of the new American president. His heart quickened. Despite being the most powerful and well-known person in the world, he had not seen her face in weeks, not even in pictures. He would be contented with occasional glimpses of her. He would assure himself that she was fine, and he did nothing wrong. It’s just that he did not want to be a burden to her. When the urge to come to her was strong, he reminded himself that if his presence would be her undoing, he would rather stay away, even though there is nothing in the world that he wanted more than holding her close each night and watching her sleep. But her future was more important, despite completely going against his principles.  
  
She was the center of his life.  
  
There was nothing and no one more important to him than her. 

* * *

_**The US Capitol**_  
_**Washington, DC**_  
_**A few hours earlier**_  
  
The scene that greeted Hillary was grim, but it accurately represented the current state of the union: only half of the members of Congress was present, as the other half were dead. Speaker Pelosi and her vice-president designate Tim Kaine, who was acting as the president of the Senate, were waiting for her at the rostrum. She was accompanied by Senator Chuck Schumer, who had assumed the role of Senate majority leader after Harry Reid died from his injuries. A small lump formed in her throat as she walked along the aisle of the House gallery. Two months ago, Hillary decided to skip the exact same speech that she was about to give as a sign of protest against US’s crimes against Rodinia. But things had drastically changed since then. She was no longer Secretary of State and now the most powerful person on Earth.  
  
Normally, Republicans would have given a Democratic president a polite applause while they maintained their poker pace. But this was no ordinary circumstance. The nation was recovering from the worst act of terror since 9/11, which claimed hundreds of innocent lives, including the President of the United States. In the House gallery, where the most extreme acts of partisanship where exercised, nobody was a Democrat or a Republican. Every one of them was united under a banner: the flag of America.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States: Hillary Rodham!” announced Nancy Pelosi.  
  
Hillary bore no joy when she stepped up into the rostrum and settled behind the podium where she would speak. She looked around, and she mentally took note of every member of Congress who was not present. Some of them were dear friends, others were merely colleagues, but all of them were precious to her. She could feel a tear threaten to fall from her eye, but she kept her game face on.  
  
At the Republican side, Neil gave her an encouraging look. She merely nodded to acknowledge him.  
  
The minutes-long applause had settled down, and Hillary began to give her speech.  
  
“My fellow Americans,” she began. “It is my great honor to be invited by this distinguished legislative body to speak to the American people. It is my duty, as your President, to let the American people know where the United States stand, and to lead the people towards progress and prosperity.”  
  
“The President of the United States is not only the commander-in-chief. She is also the consoler-in-chief. And on this period of mourning, I am with you in your grief. My heart goes to all the victims of the terrible attack on this very same sight two months ago, where more than a hundred lives were taken, including our beloved President Barack Obama.”  
  
The mention of Obama’s name yielded an extended applause from the audience.  Even Obama’s staunchest critics in Congress gave him a respectful applause. Hillary maintained her composure despite the tears for her former boss threatening to fall.  
  
Hillary went on to call for unity. Everyone in the chamber was teary-eyed as she reaffirmed her commitment to bring those who attacked them to justice, and that America will rise from the rubble, just as it had always done in the past.  
  
Chelsea, who was sitting in the gallery as America’s first lady, held her hand on her heart, extremely proud of her mother. Even though she was completely moved by her mother’s strength and resilience, she was not surprised. She had seen her like this all her life, and that day was another hurdle to be overcome by her lifelong hero and inspiration. She was still hurt by her mother’s untruthfulness, but that didn’t mean she could not be proud of her. In her opinion, there was nothing her mother could do to not make her proud.    
  
When Hillary’s speech had ended, she was escorted out of the gallery by senior members of Congress. Everyone from either side of the aisle was scrambling to have a handshake wither. Hillary, still basking from the extended applause from the gallery, was overwhelmed by the reception. Her glossy eyes could even be seen from the TV screens. Unbeknownst to her, commentators were singing praises on her first State of the Union, saying that she said everything the Americans needed to hear: comfort, and a promise to bring justice. She also managed to inspire unity in the face of adversity. Overall, her first speech to Congress was a tremendous success.  
  
When she came back to the White House, she was greeted with cheers from her energized White House staff. She had gathered everyone to the Oval and thanked them for their tireless effort to make this occasion a success. As a treat, she ordered pizza and beer for the staff who was still there.    
  
Once the staff had gone out of her office, Huma entered with a big smile on her face.  
  
“Congratulations, Madam President,” Huma greeted her. “That was one hell of a speech.”  
  
“I know. Thank God it’s over,” Hillary said with a sigh and looking at the window. “Tomorrow, we go back to work.”  
  
“Don’t go back just yet. Allow yourself to bask in the good press for a couple more days. You need the good political capital,” Huma advised.  
  
“You know I don’t care much about the politics. I want to get things done.”  
  
Huma chuckled. “This is why you will never be a good politician.”  
  
“Yet I am the President of the United States,” Hillary replied cheekily.  
  
“Fair enough,” Huma conceded, still chuckling. “By the way, I came here to tell you that the CIA had sent a new set of briefing books.”  
  
“What’s it about?” Hillary grabbed the glass of water in Resolute Desk and gulped it.  
  
“I didn’t manage to get a clear look but I think I saw China, Serbia and Ukraine in the cover,” replied Huma.  
  
Hillary could feel a headache coming. She wanted to have a short glance at the briefing books but the event that night sapped her of her energy.  
  
She decided to hold off reading the briefing books and went to the private residences instead. She dismissed Huma and the aide scurried to get her bag and call it a day.  
  
Half of her body really wanted to go through those briefing books, but her other half was objecting and pulling her towards her bed. She was already in the middle of her walk towards the residence but she was still debating with herself whether or not to read the report. But her headache finally came through, and there was no way she could read those tonight. As a compromise, she decided that she would wake up earlier than usual and she would read those briefing books first thing in the morning.  
  
She would find out, in a few hours, that holding off reading those briefing books was a good decision.     
  
 


	47. Recusal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around 3-4 chapters to go and then an epilogue. I'm gonna try to wrap this all up soon. :)

**_Situation Room_**  
**_The White House_**  
**_March 31, 2009_**

Five sets of eyes were upon Hillary as her eyes scanned and re-scanned the executive summary of the Serbia report. Hillary, along with Tom Donilon, Bob Gates, Vice President Tim Kaine, FBI director Robert Mueller, and Leon Panetta, the director of the CIA. She and the five other men were in the Situation Room for the Presidential Daily Brief and their routine national security meeting. As Hillary took time to internalize the Serbia report, the five other senior CIA staffers sat across the room, ready to answer questions from the President.

As Hillary processed another sentence from the report, her heart rate dropped further. The dreaded day had finally arrived.

_It has been reported by our sources that Bill Clinton has been spotted in the outskirts of Priština. He appeared to be travelling alone and unarmed. Assessment by the IC and other foreign intelligence suggests that he has not been in contact with Rodinian military and intelligence officials. He appears to be living a nomadic life in Serbia as he avoids detection and extradition._

With lips dry and her palms sweaty, Hillary gingerly closed the briefing book and looked up to an expectant crowd.

“How sure are we on this?” Hillary asked Panetta and the CIA staff present.

“60%,” said Panetta.

Hillary looked at the others.

“55%, Ma’am.”

“A soft 60.”

“Maybe 65%”.

“I concur with my colleagues. High fifties to low sixties.”

Hillary glanced at everyone in the room, feeling a bit disappointed by the responses.

“Is that it?” she asked with a hint of annoyance. “Not even a seventy or an eighty?”

Nobody answered. She looked at Leon Panetta for another estimate. He chose not to respond.

Hillary sighed. “I guess this is not good enough for me to make a decision on. I still recall 2006 where many of you answered 80, and it turns out he isn’t there.”

Eerie silence hovered in the room. No one could counter Hillary’s argument. That 2006 failed bin Laden raid was, to say the least, was a disappointment, and America’s enemy #1 had not been captured until then.

Hillary’s eyes scanned the room, and she caught Tom and Bob’s sour faces. She knew that they didn’t like how she had argued successfully against making any move to capture Bill without their 100% certainty. Nevertheless, politics and governing were still a man’s world; she had expected that they would undermine her somehow.

“If I may,” said Donilon, “perhaps it is now time for the President to step aside.”

Everyone in the room looked at Tom Donilon with their expressions aghast. Surely he was not suggesting that Hillary should resign?”

“I am sorry if I had not made myself clear,” apologized Tom, who Hillary suspected that intentionally phrased his words as such so have his intended effect. “What I mean is that President Rodham should step aside in national security issues concerning Rodinia. With marriage ties to their current Supreme Leader, I believe that she cannot be impartial.”

“I bed your pardon!” Hillary said indignantly. “To even suggest that I cannot do my job….after thirty years of working to protect this country from Rodinian threats….”

“And we are thankful for your service,” Bob Gates cut her off. “But things are different now. You’re the President of the United States now, not an employee of the State Department. You are more vulnerable to foreign surveillance and interference. It’s for your own protection, Hillary.”

Hillary felt her blood boil, considering that the National Security Council wanted her to be protected from surveillance now.

“Funny, that didn’t stop government bureaucrats from snooping into my affairs because they don’t trust me on Rodinia,” said Hillary. “Enough with the pretense. Just tell me you don’t trust me on this.”

“Not at all, Madam President…”

“Then what makes it different from when I handled Rodinian policy in the State Department?” Hillary barked angrily.

“I’d like to hear the Vice President’s thought on this,” said Bob.

Tim was listening intently, submerged deep into his thoughts. He heard the back and forth between Hillary and Tom and Bob, and now, everyone what looking up to him for what he has to say.

“Hillary,” said Tim, “I don’t think what Tom and Bob are suggesting is irrational. Look, if the public finds out that you are married to Clinton and still have control over the Rodinian affairs, then you’ll be toast. Remember: you are not anymore a government bureaucrat. You’re a politician now. Everything that you do is now being viewed behind political lens.

Hillary flared inside, wondering if Tim was fully aware of the espionage operation against her, an act clearly forbidden by the Constitution. But with Tim siding with Tom and Bob, she had no other ally in the National Security Council.  But she couldn’t deny that what Tim said as wrong either. He had the uncanny ability to be rational and be the voice of reason every damn time.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I recuse myself from Rodinian matters. I presume that Tim will take over?”

“Yes,” affirmed Tom.

“I promise do the best I can, Hillary,” Tim said. “And you’ll always be in the loop. That much, I can give to you.”

“Thanks Tim.” Despite the feeling sting of being recused from Rodinian matters, Hillary appreciated Tim’s gesture to still include her in his decision-making process.

With Tim now in charge of the Rodinia matters, things had gone to a different direction. The council had decided that they would continue tracking Clinton until their intelligence agencies were more certain of this location and disposition. Hillary felt relieved that no concrete decision had been made, otherwise she would have been angry at herself for letting the others just do whatever they pleased with Bill.

Later that afternoon, after she had attended several more meetings and made several important calls, Hillary retired to the private residence where she would be expecting Neil. Even though they bitterly broke-up, they still maintained their friendship and they were able to move on from the initial awkwardness.

Just before dinner, Hillary heard the doorbell ring.

“Hi,” Hillary greeted Neil at the door.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Neil kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry if I’m a bit late. CPAC people called. They want me in their conference but I told them I am too busy.”

“Persistent bunch of folks, eh?” she said.

“Yeah. I have never been interested in attending that shitfest. Hey, I am as conservative as you can imagine. But I am not a clown,” said Neil.

“Of course you aren’t,” Hillary giggled. “Come on in. Dinner’s ready.”

Hillary and Neil enjoyed the meal in her table, courtesy of the White House chefs. Hillary apologized to him that she couldn’t cook the dinner herself, which Neil completely understood. She was President of the United States after all.

“Relax, Hillary. You’re POTUS. I am sure no one will mind if you don’t do your own cooking. The American people would rather have you create jobs and keep them safe,” he said.

Those last three words rang loudly inside her head. Maybe he should know what had just happened at the National Security Council?

Neil noticed that Hillary was staring at the floor, holding her knife and fork in the middle of slicing her roast beef. He could clearly see that she was thinking deep and hard.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Sorry,” Hillary snapped back to reality. “Rough day.”

“Tell me about it.”

Hillary sighed. “I suppose I can tell you. You have the highest security and all. But please, don’t let your Republican colleagues know about this.”

“I’ve kept your deepest secrets, so I think I can handle it,” he assured.

Hillary took a deep breath. “Alright. I was recused from Rodinian matters in the NSC.”

Neil simply looked at her. “Can’t say I am surprised. Any sane NSC official would suggest that.”

She felt the slight sting from his words. “I am surprised that they don’t trust me after decades of my work in the State Department. They didn’t do that when I was Secretary of State. Why now?”

“Because you’re a politician now, not a diplomat nor a bureaucrat,” he explained. “They did the right thing. It’s better for you and for everyone that Rodinian matters be decided by someone else.”

Hillary was a little annoyed at Neil. She told him this because she needed a sympathetic ear, but he sided with her colleagues!

“I know you don’t like what I just said,” Neil remarked, noticing the smallest grimace in her face that she tried to hide. “But one day, you’ll be grateful that you’re insulated from the Rodinian affairs.”

“I won’t be grateful if they killed my husband because they wanted to make him a scapegoat,” Hillary insisted.

“Why? Didn’t Lanny Davis point to him as the mastermind for the terrorist attack?” asked Neil.

“Why then would he travel alone by himself, disconnected from his legion of supporters?” asked Hillary pointedly. “Even bin Laden is with loyalists, even though he is living in a cave.”

Neil tried to come up with a sufficient answer, but he couldn’t find any.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “but for now, he’s all we got. You have to open yourself up to the possibility that the US will hunt him down and kill him. There’s nothing you can do about it,” he said.

Hillary conceded that Neil was right. However, there was nothing stopping her from hating what he just said.  


	48. Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta. 
> 
> P.S. Raise your hand if you're upset by the Barr Summary *remains livid for the rest of the year*

_**Undisclosed Location** _   
_**Serbia** _   
_**May 12, 2010** _

Bill locked the doors of his bungalow just outside the city limits in Pristina. He adjusted his bonnet and rubbed his beard-covered chin. He then began his journey to the supermarket. People unsuspecting of his real identity bid him good morning, including a young mother who was pushing a stroller and walking her dog. He knew that woman. She was a teacher in the school downtown. He had been always fond of her, but not because she was pretty and single, but because he reminded her so much of his wife. The woman with a stroller could have very well been Hillary during her early days in America, shortly after she gave birth to their daughter. Hillary could be pushing Chelsea in a stroller like this woman. She could have had a dog too. 

The woman stopped in her tracks and asked Bill what was he up to. He told the woman, in impeccable Serbian, that he was off the supermarket. She wished him a a good day and went back to pushing her stroller. In any other circumstance, Bill thought, he would have been friends with her, invited her to dinner in his house and told her about his wife whom she reminded him off. But no. Befriending her would only put her life at risk. And if she knew who he was, she wouldn't want to be friends with him.

Bill continued his brisk walk, mindful that someone might be following him. He was used to it by now, after months of hiding from the most powerful and organized anti-crime and terrorism organization in the world. But since he was an expert in stealth himself, he was able to avoid the prying eyes of the FBI. But that didn't mean that he was off anybody's trail. After his disappearance, he knew that a slew of nations were scrambling to track him down, the most persistent of which was Russia. To be fair, Russia has an interest in tracking him, and he would have been safe in Russia's hands. But right now, he cared less about his safety and more about his wife's reputation. One word out about their connection and she would go down in infamy as a traitor and a whore.

Once inside the supermarket, Bill picked up the items he needed for his dinner. Tonight, he would be making fried chicken, pancakes, gravy and grits. He threw in lemons for some iced tea too. He decided that he would have a special dinner tonight.

After all, he knew that they would come for him and take him down. Tonight.

_**The Situation Room** _   
_**The White House** _   
_**May 12, 2010** _

Hillary didn't know why the National Security Council called for an impromptu meeting tonight. She changed from her nightgown to a pair of her smart suit and skirt in record time, even though she didn't bother applying make-up. She raced from the residence to the Situation Room, her heart pounding in her chest, dreading whatever the reason the NSC called her for in this ungodly hour.

When she arrived, she found the entire National Security Council and her top staff huddled around the largest screen in the room. It seemed that something was already up.

Everyone stood up when she stepped in, and she nodded in acknowledgement. She immediately asked what was going on, and CIA chief Leon Panetta took it upon himself to respond.

"The decision was made only this morning," said Leon. "The Vice President, faced with concrete evidence that Clinton is hiding in Serbia, immediately ordered to raid Clinton tonight."

Tim stood up with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if this came as a shock. But there is a high risk that Russia has already notified Clinton that we found him. We had to act immediately."

Apart from this bombshell, Tim had been able to deliver on his promise, always notifying her of the progress on Bill's search and asking her advice on Rodinian affairs. It infuriated her that he didn't tell her about this right away, but it was the least of her worries right now.

"We can have just one photo taken with all of us here for record purposes, but you can be excused if you wish, Hillary," said Tim. "I understand the emotional toll this can cause you."

Hillary shook his head. "No. I'll stay. I'll be here until the bitter end."

Everyone cast a worried look on her but nobody objected.

"Alright," said Tim. "General Webb, you're in charge now."

Hillary sat on the large empty chair next to General Webb.

General Brad Webb, Assistant Commanding General of the Joins Special Operations Command, who was sitting on one end of the long table, nodded. He typed something in the laptop in front of him, and the large screen changed scenes. It now showed live shots, taken from a small drone, from inside a large military aircraft where around 30 men were fixing their assault gear

The moments of calm ended when they heard the aircraft landed, and the door of the plane opened. The ground commander was heard issuing last minute orders and strategies. And then,  one by one, the soldiers got off the aircraft and climbed into the truck that was waiting for them. Others who were not in the truck rode the military jeep nearby. After minutes of tense silence, the two vehicles sped off.

In a matter of minutes, the vehicles stopped at a relatively empty middle class suburb. The men quietly got off and surrounded a blue-roofed bungalow Hillary suspected where Bill was hiding. Her heartbeat quickened, her hand tightening its grasp on the arm of her chair. Her breathing became more and more difficult, but she soldiered on.

She wanted to look away, but her eyes were glued to the screen, desperate for a last glimpse of him.

Around twenty men remained in their positions while the rest became the outside guard, protecting the operation from other actors. Those who were supposed to charge in made themselves hidden, but still surrounding the bungalow.

Two men stepped forward and knocked. No response. The knocked again. Still nothing. They knocked for a third time before they dug deep into their suits for a small device and attached it to the door. The two men stepped about fifteen meters away from the door. And to Hillary's surprise, the doorknob exploded to little noise. The two men earlier kicked the burnt door open and then cleared the others to go inside.

Hillary heard General Webb say something, but it didn't register to her, as she was so fixated on the scene unfolding in front of her. The vantage point of the live broadcast shifted. Before, it was from a drone, but now, it is from a body cam of one of the men. Hillary could hear the not-so-loud tactical conversations of the soldiers that she wondered if their target could hear them.

One by one, the men checked every room of the first floor. The team inside the Situation Room, except Hillary, was disappointed whenever a soldier would come out of a room and declare the room cleared. To add insult to injury, nobody seemed to have found any paraphernalia that could be used by the US for counterintelligence or prosecution purposes. In that regard, Hillary was disappointed too, but relieved that her husband was nowhere to be found.

Another sweep was done to double check if the house was indeed empty, and it yielded the same results. The ground commander, via a small walkie talkie that could transmit his message directly to Washington DC, told General Webb that Clinton wasn't there, and the optimistic aura that occupied the Situation Room had gone sour. General Webb asked for five minutes so that he could discuss the next course of action with the National Security Team.

Hillary didn't bother to participate, but her head and her heart were pounding in jubilation. The US still hadn't found her husband, which meant he was somewhere out there, alive. For her, no news of him were good news. As long as he remained out there, hidden and undetected, she could breathe easier.

The meeting of the NSC was still underway when one soldier called the attention of the commander. He said that he found a small trapdoor in the living room that seemed to lead to a basement. The Situation Room became abuzz with tense excitement, while Hillary prayed that it be a false alarm. The men inside the house swarmed into the living room and broke the trapdoor open with a sledgehammer. One, two, three, BAM! The sledgehammer did the trick. The trapdoor broke and there seemed to be light inside. The soldiers lit up with excitement as Hillary descended into dread. Five men stepped into the trapdoor, including the one who was wearing the body cam.

"FREEZE! DROP WHAT YOU'RE HOLDING! WE'RE ARMED!"

An old man with bushy hair and beard, who looked like Viking, was sitting in a small armchair, reading a small leather book under the dim light of a florescent blub. Hillary immediately recognizes that face. It was the same face who kept staring her at the law school library almost forty years ago, the only difference was that the rich auburn is now an ugly shade of gray and white. His face as aged so much since Hillary last saw him, but the deep blue, piercing eyes were unmistakable.

"Bill," she heard herself mutter.


End file.
